


The Unclassified Texts of the Inquisition's Elite

by heartslogos



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-06-24 04:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 30,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15622821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartslogos/pseuds/heartslogos
Summary: members of the Inquisition ft. texts from last night





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 406):  
> Theres a handprint of sauce on my fridge, one on my face, and a trail of it leading to my bedroom, and sauce all in my bed, and I have no idea what the fuck i ate.
> 
> /
> 
> (412):  
> Typical. We're ready to go, and you're not wearing pants.

“Well. It’s not red. So, it’s probably not blood,” Maxwell says as he looks up at ceiling, hands on his hips. “So I don’t think it’s an incredibly rare steak at the very least. Good news is, that means you’re  _probably_  still good on that bet you have with Dagna on whether or not you could make it as a vegan.”

“Shut the fuck up, Trevelyan,” Sera says, throwing a magic clean eraser at his head, “Get back to scrubbing. I’m not sleeping in this room with all of this shit everywhere.”

“Have you tried licking it? Smelling it very closely? Heating it or applying some sort of technique to loosen the sauce so you can test it?” Max asks.

“ _No_ ,” Sera says, “I texted you to help me clean this up before someone else sees it and gives me shit over it, not to quiz me up and down on what I think it is. I’m hoping it’s  _edible_  and I don’t  _die_  over it.”

“How are you feeling?” Maxwell asks, kneeling down and flipping up some of the sheets that have half crumpled onto the ground next to Sera’s bed. “Holy shit, Sera, there’s…a huge plastic bag filled with this stuff underneath your bed. What were you  _on_  last night?”

“Nothing!” Sera protests, quickly going to join him as they look under her bed, “What the  _fuck_ , Max?”

“I think I should be the one asking that here, Sera.  _What the fuck_  is that? I’m going to get it.”

Maxwell reaches out, fingertips barely brushing against the plastic and he shudders, “Sera. It’s  _warm_. I know it’s not blood because it’s not red or brown or some shade of any color blood can become. It’s  _orange_  and  _warm_  and I’m deeply concerned. Can cleaning your room wait so we can get you to a doctor?”

“If Dagna comes back and sees this I’m in for so much shit. Besides I feel fine.”

“As opposed to Dagna coming back and you dying of food poisoning?!?”

“Trevelyan, just shut up and clean, alright? Ugh. With the way you fuss I might as well have called Evelyn over. I don’t think Herah would be nagging me so much about this, either.”

“I think my concern is a little valid right now.”

“I don’t care. I want these stains  _gone_. Your hands, my magic erasers,  _let’s go._  Come on. We’ve also go to clean these sheets and maybe somehow my mattress.”

Maxwell stares at Sera, “Are you serious? The  _mattress_? How soaked through did it go?”

“It’s like I had my period, and just decided to die on that bed for a week rather than move and put a tampon in,” Sera replies. “It’s fucking nasty up there, Trevelyan. And we’ve got to get rid of it otherwise Dagna might never want to be in the same room as me, doesn’t matter if she wins this bet or not.”

“Sera, your priorities, as always, are fucking  _astounding_. I’m calling Mahanon and Herah. If there’s anyone who knows how to get rid of suspicious stains it’s one of those two. And then we’re going to  _the medical wing_  and getting you looked at.”

-

“I honestly don’t know why you were so surprised,” Ellana says, flouncing into the car and throwing her bag into the back seat. “Have you ever known me to be wearing pants in my room? Ever? Or even in the common room, for that matter?”

“She’s got a point,” Bull says as he starts the car. “I mean, sometimes you’re lucky to get boxers or leggings. Shorts is pushing it, too.”

Dorian rolls his eyes as he climbs into the back seat, and Cole takes Ellana’s bag into his lap.

“Pants are the last thing that go on this body if I leave the comfort of my room,” Ellana says. “Or the comfort of Bull’s room. Or the comfort of your room. Or the comfort of Evelyn’s room. Or the comfort of Cole’s room. Or the comfort of - “

“I get it,” Dorian cuts her off. “If Pentaghast starts lecturing us about punctuality because of you I’m going to turn you over to her instantly. No hesitation. I don’t care if you’re my best friend.”

“Pants are awful,” Ellana says, “Why would I be expected to wear them when I don’t have to?”

“I’ve seen you in sweatpants. Pajama pants. I’ve seen you in  _a three piece suit_.”

“Now that’s different.”

Bull catches Dorian’s eye in the rearview mirror and he tries his best to convey  _don’t fucking start_  with his eye only but it doesn’t work.

“Now you’re being picky.”

Ellana first turns to look at Bull like she can’t believe she’s hearing this from her  _best friend in the entire world_.

Then she turns around in her seat and looks at Cole for him to confirm that this is happening - he just stares back at her quietly - and then she round onto Dorian.

“Dorian Pavus most recently of Minrathous.  _Do not_ even think about  _suggesting_  to me that those three categories of leg attire are even  _remotely_  similar to each other or  _pants_. Bull, key out of the ignition, I need to get my slides.”

“ _Babe_ ,” Bull groans but he’s already slowing the car down even as Dorian looks at him and mouths  _what are you doing?_ , “We have a  _flight_.”

“We  _own the plane_ ,” Ellana says, unbuckling her seatbelt. Bull stops the car because he knows she’ll just jump out of the car regardless of whether it’s moving or not. “Besides, what are they going to do? Leave without their foremost expert on spacial anomalies? Their best currently active in the field detective? Please. And come on. I mean. Really? What _can_  they do if we’re not on time? I’m the pilot. What are they going to do? Sit in an unmoving plane and make airplane noises? Cute. But no. I’ll be back.”

Ellana hops out of the car and closes the door, running back towards her housing unit. They didn’t even make it  _two houses_.

“Is she serious?” Dorian asks.

“About pants? Yeah,” Bull says. “You had to get her started?”

“We really need to get more aircraft pilots on the payroll, she can’t just keep holding us hostage like this,” Dorian says. “Besides. I thought she’s supposed to be a biologist?”

“Well, we’ve got a stupid abundance of those,” Bull points out. “And where else are you going to find someone with an extensive career in flying aircraft through hostile airspace while carrying contraband and sensitive payloads? I agree with you completely, for once, but she’s got the Inquisition by the balls and that’s the end of it until Mahanon feels like doing something about it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (647): I hope you have your own chainsaw cause I didn’t buy one for you. It was a gross oversight on my part
> 
> (201): I didn’t think you wanted your identity stolen along with your dignity. My mistake.

“Why?” Maxwell says, looking up at Herah, “Is he serious? Herah, tell me he isn’t -  _why would I need a chainsaw_? Why is he  _planning_  to use a chainsaw?”

Herah shrugs, popping the tab on an energy drink for the tray of things she’s bringing to Josephine for her latest all nighter, “Maybe he’s like a boy scout. Always prepared.”

Maxwell just stares at the woman, “Mahanon. A boy scout?”

“You’re right, Mahanon would be a girl scout,” Herah acknowledges with an absent nod, “They’re generally more put together and resourceful. Do you have your own chainsaw?”

“Of course I don’t own my own chainsaw, Adaar,” Maxwell groans, “Is it too late to get reassigned to a different mission? It never goes well when I team up with Mahanon. He’s terrifying.”

“His frightening adeptness at everything he does offsets your general everything, Trevelyan,” Herah says, “You think I got everything here? Energy drinks, vitamins and supplements, three sports drinks, new pens, a heating pad…”

“Food?”

“Near her paperwork? Not on your life,” Herah replies. “Go ask Bull if you can borrow his chainsaw.”

“Why does  _Bull_  have a chainsaw?”

Herah just turns and gives Maxwell a look like he’s stupid, “He’s the Iron Bull. Of course he has a chainsaw. It’s part of his job to have a chainsaw.”

“I’ve asked too much,” Maxwell says immediately. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see it. Would that even be sanitary - “

“He’s a professional, Trevelyan. He maintains his equipment. Of course it’s sanitized. Jesus. You don’t want them dying of infection before you get what you want. Think about it a little Trevelyan, use your head.”

“I know too much and also not enough I guess,” Maxwell grimaces. “Where do I get a chainsaw around here?”

“The Iron Bull’s going to have one, it’s going to be in good shape, and it’ll be very good at whatever Mahanon has planned,” Herah says. “Or you could get a mediocre one from one of the carpenters or architects or something. It might not be as efficient though. Why don’t you ask Mahanon where he got his?”

“This is supposed to be a simple pick up!  _Why do I need a chainsaw_?”

Maxwell glances down at his phone, “He’s asking me if I could bring a crowbar. What the  _hell_  does he think we’re going to be doing exactly? It’s a drop! We’re just picking up a drop! It’s in the middle of a  _gas station_. There’s nothing we need a chainsaw or crowbar for. Why is he texting me about paint thinner? Herah, switch places with me right now. I can’t do this, I’m  _terrified_.”

“Oh? You’d rather bring these to Josephine then?” Herah says, pale eyebrow raising. “And help her with transcription and translation and answering phones.”

Maxwell hesitates. On one hand…

Mahanon. Chainsaws. Crowbars. Paint thinner. The general terror of Mahanon Lavellan.

On the other.

 _Josephine Montilyet_  caught on a deadline for meeting prep and negotiations with Ferelden and Antiva.

“I’m going to go find the Iron Bull and ask if he has a crowbar,” Maxwell says.

Herah gives Maxwell a comforting pat on the shoulder, “That’s what I thought. Good luck, Trevelyan.”

-

Evelyn hits call because she doesn’t trust her thumbs right now and her vision is remarkably blurry and her eyes  _are burning_.

“You stole my  _wallet_ ,” Evelyn says as soon as Mahanon picks up.

“If it wasn’t me it would have beens someone else,” Mahanon sounds very bored and disinterested by all of this and Evelyn would really wish he were less…ambivalent about things. She has terrible taste in confidants and friends and  _best friends_. “I’ll give it back to you when you’re sober.”

“I am sober.”

“Have you thrown up yet?”

“No.”

“You aren’t sober,” Mahanon says. “Go throw up, wash your mouth out, and go to sleep for about four more hours. When you wake up again go shower and I’ll have food for you. And then, if you’re looking any better, I will give you your personal phone and wallet and keys back. As well as your purse. And then you’re going to swear to me that you’ll never get as drunk as you did last night again in my presence and I will consider deleting the texts you sent me even though I was right there.”

Evelyn feels a cold drop of ice go straight down from the top of her head to the pit of her stomach.

“What did I do?”

Mahanon hums, “You almost sent these to Ellana and Josephine, too. You are  _very_  lucky you’re clumsy when drunk. I almost didn’t get it in time.”

“ _What did I text you_.”

“Go throw up, Evelyn. As an aside? I did my best to mitigate any possible damage, and I believe that’s what you brought me there for. That said, I could not stop everything, I am not all powerful. A  _few_  of you texts did go through. My apology to you is telling you this now rather than you finding out later. It’s also me holding your phone for you so I can tell you how bad the damage is.”

“Mahanon.”

“You’re going to throw up.”

And of course he’s fucking right. Evelyn throws the standard burner phone they all have onto her bed and runs to her bathroom, barely making it in time to start retching into the toilet bowl.

Past Evelyn was smart for asking Mahanon to be her DD. Mahanon is approximately ninety percent of the Inquisiton’s collective control when they go out drinking because he has an absolute loathing for looking stupid in public. And he has an uncanny ability to pick out who’s good for drinks, who’s skeevy, and how to get into clubs with five or less words.

Based on her vomit he even managed to get her to eat something. Of course it’s not helping her much now that she’s throwing it up, but he got her to do something which is more than she can say for most people who help her get home after a night out.

But also?

He’s her best friend and an  _asshole_  and she should have known that he’d both protect her from herself and also hold it over her head ominously like a guillotine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (601): If I don't wake up tomorrow you inherit my paycheck and can only spend it at cinnabon
> 
> (952): That same damn squirrel keeps staring at me like I did something wrong. Nature knows when you're hung over.

“Well. You make that sound like a bad thing but let me tell you I can make that work,” Herah says. “Between Josephine, the Trevelyans, Sera, Kaaras, and all of our various friends I think I’m covered. I might actually end up with less money than when I started. You might need

“Do I really get paid so little?” Edric says, “Really? Am I the least paid employee on the Inquisition roster? I have so much work experience. I’m being cheated. Who do I talk to for a raise? A negotiation of benefits?”

“I say nothing about this. I have no comment. I’d probably get into trouble for that with Josephine, privacy laws and whatever. What was wrong with you anyway?” Herah asks, “What are you being dramatic about? You look fine. I mean, stressed and with a resting heart rate of a panic attack but that’s not new or anything.”

“Oh. That, right,” Edric scratches his jaw and yawns, “An accident in the lab. I inhaled something. I’m not sure what that something was, but I was hallucinating my sisters voice following me from room to room for a while, and honestly I was about ninety nine percent sure this would be the day she gets me and I end up in the ground.”

“Yikes,” Herah says, “You go to medical yet? Seen Stitches or something?”

“I’m fine  _now_. I was just questionably high for a while.”

“Why cinnabon?”

“First place I could think of that didn’t have a toy in its food combos,” Edric replies. “Also Malika’s favorite whenever we go out. I love that kid, but I’m worried with how she’s conditioning the people around her to get her stuff. Including and especially me. She hasn’t even seen her mom for extended periods of time in about two years. How is she getting this good at it?”

“Maybe she’s born with it,” Herah says, “Or maybe she’s just found other people to learn questionable shit from. Maybe it’s because she works with a very questionable organization. Have you thought of that, Edric?”

“I thought it would balance out with the semi-respectable people who run the questionable organization, honestly,” Edric admits.

“Sure. But we have Ellana, Leliana, Mahanon, Maxwell, and Sera on our crew,” Herah says, ticking off on her fingers, “The Iron Bull, Skinner, Harding, too. Just who are the semi-respectable people you were hoping to balance these guys again?”

“You forgot to include yourself.”

“Did I?” Herah raises a sharp eyebrow, “ _Did_  I, Edric?”

Edric, wisely, says nothing.

Herah smiles, “That’s what I thought.”

-

“Are you sure it isn’t one of Ellana’s squirrels?” Malika asks, tipping her basket of fries towards Maxwell like the sweet little angel she is.

“Ellana’s what?” Max repeats.

“Ellana’s squirrels. You know. Like one of her ravens or crows or mice or cats or dogs or - “

“You could literally go on forever with the types of animals we’ve seen Ellana with at one point or another. But they aren’t actually  _hers_. She hasn’t  _trained_  them to do stuff. If that were true she’d have taken over half the continent by now and then gotten bored and waited for a challenge to conquer the rest of it.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t adapt her personality,” Malika points out. “I mean. I feel like if they spend maybe around a day or so with her and then they’re gunners. They’re completely like little furry or scaled or feathered Ellana pieces. It’s really adorable, actually. Why were you being judged by a squirrel?”

“I might have woken up outside,” Maxwell admits, chewing on some of her fries, “I also might have woken up covered in toilet paper and with a few dozen ones in my clothes.”

Malika takes her fries back, “You can pay for your own fries then, huh.”

Maxwell pouts at her. “What if it’s illegal money?”

“Good thing we’re a legal organization that’s good at using illegal things for our own nefariously okay purposes,” Malika replies. “Are you still hung over?”

“Mostly embarrassed and wondering how many people saw me like that. And also slightly hurt that there were possibly several people who saw me but  _didn’t help me_. What if I choked on my own vomit?”

“Well. When I saw you, you were sitting up so I don’t think you would’ve choked. And Kaaras said that you didn’t drink that much.”

Max glares at her.

“You  _and_  Kaaras saw me and didn’t wake me up? Or move me?”

“Mahanon tried to move you but you kept insisting on sleeping on that bench and he gave up,” Malika says.

Maxwell is oddly touched that Mahanon Lavellan tried to help him.

“Ellana wouldn’t let him go inside until he made an attempt,” Malika says, “And he was like. Not dressed to be roughing it outdoors. I mean, he was in like this really sheer shirt and his make up was smearing and he was in tight pants and all. I don’t think it’d have been very comfortable for him if he got locked out. Though Bull would have probably helped Mahanon sneak in later, now that I think about it. Bull’s sweet like that. He’s totally hooked on Ellana but he’s still sweet.”

“You’re the only person I know who calls him sweet. I mean, yeah, he’s nice. But you’re literally the only person who calls him sweet unironically.”

“Ellana does it all the time.”

“That’s different. It’s Ellana. She just does these things and it’s completely sincere even when it shouldn’t be, you know? I mean. Remember that time when she forced that guy to have tea with her before kicking her out off his property? They had tea for like, four and a half hours and  _then_  she was officially banned from the property but they still text every so often to talk shit about other people they both don’t like.”

This is true.

“Isn’t that the guy who sent her flowers for her anniversary with Bull?”

“Yup. The pink roses and the chocolate strawberries.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (412): Just so you know, you called at 2 last night and kept making me tell you that I loved you and then when you got home you thanked me for walking you home. Incase you forgot, I'm still about 200 miles away.
> 
> /
> 
> (603): i literally have the attention span of a weasel on steroids, but yeah, i know who you’re talking about.

“So,” Bull says as soon as Mahanon picks up. He can’t keep the sheer amount of amused  _smugness_  out of his voice, and he’s not going to try because Mahanon will know it’s there anyway. He’s not going to drag this out by pretending otherwise because Mahanon’s retribution would be completely off the scale if he does. Bull’s aiming for that sweet spot between off the scale and right at the edge of it. The one he knows he can get away with.

So he  _does_  stop talking there and he lets Mahanon stew in pure anticipation for about thirty seconds before he goes on.

“Rough night?”

“Those were for my  _sister_ ,” Mahanon says immediately. “I trust that you passed them onto her since I was unable to get her to answer  _her_  phone.”

Bull grins, and Ellana is silently laughing as she hands him his morning coffee. He opens his arm a little and she immediately dives in and pushes her ear against the back of his hand, eavesdropping like the nosy little shit he loves.

“Sure. We were both around at the time, but she was mostly focused on other things,” Bull says. “Most I could get out of her in response was the occasional grunt which I translated and maybe embellished upon.”

“I was having a drunk crisis and my sister couldn’t deign to  _look away_  from her video game to pay attention to me?” Mahanon is immediately outraged, embarrassment momentarily forgotten.

Bull glances at Ellana who just stares at him.

“There was a new update released and she wanted to get through it fast so she could get to farming,” Bull says, “And you know she’s got a thing in the Dales tomorrow with Herah and Josephine, so she has a time crunch to get it done. Do you know who did walk you back to base last night?”

Mahanon’s voice when he answers sounds like he’s about to either swallow, is in the process of swallowing, or throwing up a bucket of rusted nails coated in salt and vinegar.

“Sera.”

Ellana fucking  _loses it_ , and starts crying, wheezing, and has to run away from him in order to not get caught.

“She got it all on video?”

“What the fuck do you think, Bull? Of course she has the entire ordeal on video.  _None of that was meant for you_. It was for my  _sister_.”

“Denial,” Bull says, because he can only drag this out so long, “Is so bad on you. I love you too, Mahanon.”

Mahanon makes a sound much like a wailing cat, or maybe a banshee if those existed outside of TV.

“Hey, no embarrassment here, I’m hot stuff,” Bull says. “I’m flattered. We’re like family, yeah? All that stuff about you thinking I’m really wonderful and handsome and clever and a wonderful addition to your family? I take that to heart, Mahanon. I’m glad to have done you proud. Lived up to your standards. I’m looking forward to learning how to make your dad’s barbecue rib sauce. The secret one that you guys only pass on to family members. You know. The secret one that’s gone back seven generations.”

“Please. I’m saying please,” Mahanon groans.

“And I’m only passable at sewing so maybe I’ll ask your gran to teach me some tricks for when I add onto the family quilt,” Bull continues. “You wanted my square right next to yours, right? How should we color coordinate that?”

Ellana is full on  _howling_  from their bedroom at this point.

“I hate you so much,” Mahanon says, sounding strangled. “You’re worse than my sister.”

“As you said last night, we’re a perfect match. Seriously though, you okay? You need a doctor or something?”

“I’m dying from humiliation, no I’m not okay,” Mahanon says. “Excuse me while I try and  _hang myself_  to spare myself from the inevitable flurry of torment all of our mutual acquaintances will release upon me like the deluge.”

“Ever notice how you get increasingly more dramatic and wordy the longer you talk?” Bull can’t help but mention. “Anyway. Good luck there.”

“Nnnngh.”

“And hey?”

“What?”

“I love you, you dramatic shit. And I’ll pick up any time for you.”

Mahanon is so quiet that Bull thinks he got hung up on, which means that he has not been hung up on.

“I love you, too,” Mahanon finally says, sounding defeated. “Tell Ellana to go fuck herself.”

-

“Neat,” Malika says, “They’ve got Sera on the good drugs, but I think she’s coherent enough for this. Kaaras, tell Blackwall and Krem that it’s on. We’re going to con de Fer.”

“This is such a bad idea, I don’t know why I’m part of this,” Kaaras says, already texting their friends.

“Because you really want those research materials, I really want you to have them, Blackwall’s pretty bored, and Krem is always down for stuff like this. Besides, Evelyn did say she wanted us to get to know each other better. What better way to do that than to bring together a bunch of people to pull a heist on possibly one of the most put together people in the entire Inquisition? It’s like a movie. A summer comedy.”

“A summer comedy that gives way to a fall horror,” Kaaras mumbles. “Should I ask Herah for help?”

“Would she snitch?”

“Herah isn’t a snitch.”

“No, but she’s dating Josephine and Josephine’s friends with de Fer.”

Kaaras chews on his lower lip, “But she’s my sister. And I feel like of all the names we have in on this so far, she’s probably the most put together of them. And Vivienne kind of likes her, so maybe she’d go easy on us afterwards.”

Malika hums, eyes squinted as she thinks, “But she’d be cool with it?”

“Maybe,” Kaaras answers. “I mean. Herah’s generally cool with most things. I think. Cooler than most?”

“Alright. Bring her in. But don’t let her tell Josephine. If Josephine gets in on it it’s game over, because no one can go against Josephine except for Evelyn and that’s because she’s got some sort of witchcraft going on or something. I don’t know.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (518): I'm really stressed out right now.
> 
> (1-518): I think you're confusing "stressed" and "sober".
> 
> //
> 
> (508): My manager gave me an envelope with money in it before he had vacation, and when I asked what it was for, he said it will be his bail money.

 

“No, no,” Dorian says, turning to Ellana and showing her his phone, “I definitely mean stressed. Why does everyone assume sober?”

“Because you’re a severely depressed alcoholic?” Ellana replies. Only Ellana has the ability to say something incredibly deep, true, and somewhat sensitive so plainly without it becoming something a person turns defensive about.

And Dorian is  _very_  sensitive about his semi-acknowledge alcoholism. As Evelyn says it, he chases answers and vindication at the bottom of a bottle when he doesn’t like the answers he already has and she’s not  _wrong_  exactly but he’s also, again, a touch defensive about it. There are some good answers to be found at the bottom of a bottle. Depending on the bottle.

“I know the difference between being stressed and not being  _buzzed_ ,” Dorian says, “And if we’re being perfectly frank then we all know I’m not a very happy drunk.”

“No, but you are a very pointedly vivacious and spiteful person once you have about three or four drinks in you,” Ellana retorts. “And I know you know the difference between stressed and sober,  I’m pretty sure most of us know that. You just don’t handle stress sober very well. Unless it’s academic, of course. You handle everything pertaining to academics quite beautifully. It’s the other things you fall apart over.”

“I’m leaving this conversation,” Dorian tells her, “And opening the door to a different conversation. Would you care to join me?”

The wonderful thing about Ellana Lavellan is that she might know all the places to stick her fingers in and dig and twist and rip, and she will if you give her the chance, but if you plainly tell her that you aren’t in for the mood for that sort of heart-rending she’ll back off easy. She won’t forget it, god she forgets nothing, but she also won’t push it.

“So what are you stressed out about? Your current research on lyrium effects on decaying matter can’t really be worked on for another few weeks so that can’t be it. No one we know is in any particularly juicy spat. I don’t know if anyone’s been seriously injured recently because I, myself, just got off of medical leave and am  _finally_  free to not be under Stitches’ very stern thumb. This is literally my introduction back into society, you being stressed.”

“Sorry,” Dorian apologizes, “Was my place really the only place you could think of to crash after leaving medical?”

“Your room is far away enough from everyone else’s that they probably won’t make the effort of coming over to check on me, Bull trusts you enough not to bug you if he thinks I’m here, and de Fer’s rooms are like. Five doors down and no one bothers her after eleven unless it’s by express invitation. I still don’t know why the two of you are in the same building, but it works when I need a deterrent.”

“That’s a frighteningly astute observation of dynamics,” Dorian says after a brief moment of digesting all of this analysis. “I don’t know if the Iron Bull is rubbing off on you or if you’re just being more honest about things.”

Ellana just smiles at him, “So. Why are you stressed?”

And sometimes she’s just like a dog with a bone and it’s terrifying.

Dorian sighs, “Can we get breakfast first?”

“You have a kitchenette,” Ellana says, “I brought groceries over last night when you were banging your head on the table and texting Herah. I’ll make you breakfast but you’re going to talk.”

-

 

“Why is Bull giving  _you_  his bail money instead of me?” Ellana asks Krem who gives her the packet of cash. “Seems like a rather long way around.”

“Probably because he doesn’t want you to find out he’s planning to start shit,” Krem replies. “You might punish him by spending it on milk tea or pizza.”

“That’s a lot of milk tea and a lot of pizza to be had,” Ellana muses. “And I wouldn’t do that. I have other ways of making sure he knows I’m not happy with him starting shit on purpose.”

“Right,” Krem says, “Anyway. I’m giving you this because  _I’m_  also going on vacation. By which I mean, like the Chief, I’ve been assigned to a mission that takes me far away from here while de Fer and Pavus continue their feud.”

“This is wonderful and an amazing opportunity for blackmail material,” Ellana says, “I don’t know why everyone is so eager to jump ship on this.”

“Because I don’t want to end up on either of their bad sides. Not everyone is as unnaturally charismatic as you are,” Krem says.

Ellana grins, “Aw, you say the sweetest things, Krem.”

“I say that with a strong an every healthy amount of fear and respect, Lavellan,” Krem replies. “Seriously. It’s uncanny. Anyway, the Chief’s assignment took him to the southern border of Orlais and I’m heading out to the east coast of Ferelden so I don’t think I’d be able to wire this to him if he gets in trouble. I’d give it to Montilyet or Trevelyan but they might haul him back here and I’d get in trouble for being a snitch.”

Ellana fans herself with the packet of money, “Don’t worry. These lips are sealed for the low, low cost of your flattery. Good luck on your trip. Who else is going?”

“Rocky, Sera, Kaaras, Varric,” Krem ticks off on his fingers, “Something about wildlife samples. I don’t know why Sera and Varric are going because they hate anything that can’t classify, at the very least, as suburbs. They must be super desperate to get out of here.”

“Again, I don’t know why. Did you see what Dorian did the other day? The sheer amount of  _paisley_  he worked in was glorious and I think I peed a little laughing.”

“I think everyone else just, spiritually and maybe physically, peed out of fear of retribution,” Krem replies. “The only ones left here are at this rate going to be you and Montilyet - you because you like watching a wreck in motion and Montilyet because she has to be here.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised Leliana isn’t staying for this,” Ellana says. “It’s right up her alley.”

“Maybe she has a functioning sense of danger?”

“Rude. I have that. This just isn’t danger.”

“Again. She has a functioning sense of danger. I’m going to go finish packing, I just wanted to make sure I got that to you before I left. Don’t tell the Chief I gave it to you. If I’m back before he is I’ll pick it up so it’s like he’ll never have to know.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (205): We lost you in the bar so we waited outside for you...next thing you know you kick open the doors and yell "I'M ALIVE"  
> /
> 
> (850): i read his ps3 instant messaging thing... he's meeting a guy to have sex. i think your boyfriend's gay

“Well,” Herah says as Ellana squints out the window of their motel room, “You better tell them that you’re okay. Josephine’s in the shower right now but you can have it after her.”

“Thanks,” Ellana says, “For some reason the outside light is okay but looking at my phone feels like someone’s jabbing my head with my brother’s sharp, sharp, bone-spur elbows.”

“Bone spur?”

“He once popped a pool floaty. I’m not sure how, I was like - six at the time and trying to stuff as much food in my mouth as possible before my parents found out I was in the kitchen. It was our cousin’s favorite one, it was shaped like a watermelon slice and I don’t think he’s forgiven us for it since.”

“So grudges go deep in the Lavellan family, huh? Good to know. Give me your phone, I’ll text Bull and the others that you’re fine.”

“But am I fine, Herah?” Ellana asks, “Am I really fine?”

“You’re dramatic, you’re being theatrical, and you’re doing yoga and sounding perfectly coherent. You’re better than most people after a night like that. What happened to you?”

“I’ll have you know I didn’t drink anything, I just got hit on the head a few times,” Ellana says, “I probably shouldn’t have gone to sleep without someone checking on that, but I was tired. I had a long day of being beat up and beating people up and escaping probable trafficking and maybe indentured servitude or. Like. Illicit shit like that.”

Herah pauses and erases what she had ready to send to the Iron Bull and sends a text to Stitches and Dalish instead for immediate medical attention.

She then sends the Iron Bull a quick text from her own phone to let him know that not only is his life-partner alive but she’s also probably caused some shit that they’re going to need to clean up before they head back to base.

“I think I stumbled on some sort of trafficking ring,” Ellana concludes. “If it’s trafficking people or drugs or weapons I’m not sure, I didn’t stick around long enough to find out. What are the chances, though, right? We’re on our way back from a long months long assignment to work on setting up our newest Inquisition base and we go out for one nice night before returning to work at Skyhold and I stumble upon some bullshit like that. Unbelievable, really. Hey, Herah, did I happen to throw up at all last night? I don’t remember that part.”

“Honestly, Ellana, we though you were drunk,” Herah says, “And Josephine and I took turns staying awake to make sure you didn’t kick it in your sleep until we were sure you were really okay. Maybe next time  _lead_  with recounting the violent encounter, yeah?”

“I was very tired.”

“We were  _very_  concerned,” Herah returns. “Put that skinny ass back in that shitty motel bed, Stitches and Dalish are on their way. I’m going to get breakfast.”

-

“First of all,” Ellana says, waving her phone at Mahanon, “What the  _fuck_  was Theron doing in our apartment? Second of all, why was he using Bull’s PS3?  _Third_. Did no one  _tell_  our dumbass cousin that everyone in the family is some kind of queer except for him?”

“First of all,” Mahanon parrots back, “If you would read the family newsletter you’d know that our parents made us host Theron over for the past  _week_  while he was in the area because the Gray Wardens and the Inquisition have some kind of sub-contract thing going and we have  _good_  living accommodations on base in that we have  _a fucking apartment_  in official housing instead of a dorm or barrack situation.  _Second_  he was using it because you and the Iron Bull moved the PS4 to your room last weekend because you were doing some disgusting couple shit with it.”

“Hey,” Ellana jabs her finger at Mahanon, “Watching youtube videos of stupid cats being stupid while cuddling isn’t disgusting couple shit. That’s what you do when someone’s depressed and stressed out and you want to zone out but also aren’t in the general zip code for sex.”

“ _Third_ ,” Mahanon continues, “Theron’s the dumbass cousin for a reason, what do you  _think_ anyone told him?”

“Oh my god, don’t tell me I’m going to have to explain the concept of  _open relationships_  and  _pansexuality_  and  _asexuality_  to Theron,” Ellana groans. “Elgar’nan  _why_. Thirty-ish something years of being queer and it’s only become an issue  _now_?”

“On the upside he’s not going to be a dick about it,” Mahanon says, “Thereon’s dumb but he’s  _nice_. You’re going to be stuck with him being energetically supportive of you for the next fifteen or so years before some other new revelation strikes him.”

“Can I just tell him  _you’re_  the guy Bull went to have sex with and have him work that bit out?”

“No, because you’d  _still_  need to explain the concept of an open relationship to him,” Mahanon says, “And I don’t want any part of your drama.”

“You are about one  _third_  of all my drama at all times, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be part of the rest of it,” Ellana frowns. “Wait. Bull was meeting up with guys on the  _Play Station network_  for sex? Ugh, Mythal’s mercy, that man needs to set some fucking standards. Was he too lazy to stand outside our apartment door without a shirt? That’s all he needed to do if he wanted to get some genital action going. Ugh, what if he landed some weird rando? What do I do then?  _Ugh_.”

“First you’ve go to deal with our well intentioned cousin,” Mahanon says, “And then you can worry about the  _gamer_  your life-partner might accidentally have brought into your lives. Maybe you should have Lyna explain it. She explained non-binary identities to him pretty well.”

“Okay, but have you ever managed to get ahold of Lyna and get an answer within twenty four hours? In contrast to Theron who’s replying to you  _as you’re texting him_? I don’t think that’s going to work, Mahanon. I need an answer and I need it now.”

Ellana’s phone chimes and she glances down at it before letting out an irritated groan.

“And that’s the Iron Bull. Complaining about his booty call being very off putting now that he’s got clothes on and isn’t dying for some action. This is not my day, Mahanon.  _Boys_ , I swear to  _Sylaise_ , boys are not worth this much trouble.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (513): Did I fall last night?
> 
> (1-513): I wouldn't call it falling as much as you tried to lay on the sidewalk and proceeded to hit it face first.
> 
> /
> 
> (778): some guy had a sword and everyones crying..it turned bad..fast.
> 
> -

 

“No one can know this happened,” Adaar says to Blackwall. Impressive that she’s here so fast, he only sent her that message three minutes ago. That he knows of, Adaar’s current rooms are half way across Skyhold’s main grounds. Well. She’s got the legs for it, she probably could’ve sprinted straight here. Maker knows she’s got the endurance - she keeps up with Maxwell and both Lavellans nearly all day long.

“What? That we go gambling on payday?” Blackwall replies, “I think most people know about that one, Lieutenant. Almost everyone we know does the same. We both lost almost a hundred each to Sera just last night.”

“No, not that part. Who gives a shit about the gambling part? We gamble with higher stakes than  _currency_  on an hourly basis,” Adaar rolls her eyes. “I mean the falling part. The part where you were helping me not do something stupid and end up sleeping on a bench or a crate and you saw me fall down.”

“And who gives a shit about  _that_  part? It’s not a crime to fall down,” Blackwall says, “Considering how much you’d drunk I’m surprised you got up, honestly. Impressive.”

“I don’t fall. Ever.” Adaar shoots him a narrow eyed look. This is definitely how she gets all her subordinates in line, and all the recruits she’s in charge of training up to be nice and neat before unleashing the Iron Bull and Maxwell on them. “I. Herah Adaar. Formerly of the Valos-kas Security Force and currently of the Inquisition.  _Never. Fall._ ”

“Well. You did last night.”

“No. You’re wrong. And it didn’t happen,” Adaar points one long finger at him. “Not a word, Blackwall. I mean it. Last night? Did not happen. And if I find out that  _anyone_  even  _thinks_  I might have so much as gotten close to horizontal on the ground? I’m coming for you.”

“Adaar, you’re a person. People fall. Maxwell falls down the stairs every two weeks.”

“That’s Maxwell. I’m Herah Adaar. Assassin and charming security consultant,” Adaar replies. “People like me don’t fall. We may  _pretend_  to fall in order to get an advantage, but we do not ever actually  _fall on our face_. Not drunk. Not wounded. Not sober. Not sick. Not in less than perfect condition. Not ever.”

“Does this have something to do with Mahanon or Edric?” Blackwall asks after a beat.

Herah’s jaw clenches and she grinds out, “What does what have to do with them?  _Nothing happened._ This discussion is over.”

Adaar leaves with the same amount of flair she had coming in and Blackwall casually turns to Dennet, who’s been studiously flipping through reports on grain and medicine supplies due in today.

“You think she ignored you because you don’t talk to anyone or what?” Blackwall says.

“My job is animals,” Dennet replies, “Not whatever that was. She knows it. I know it. Help me recount the sedatives, I think we might have someone sneaking them out and the sooner we find out the better. Who would  _need_  dracolisc tranquilizers and for what is not a question you want delayed.”

-

Evelyn rounds onto Mahanon immediately, “What did you do?”

“I don’t know why you’re looking at  _me_ ,” Mahanon says. “I don’t own a sword.”

“Of all the people I know, of the vast amount of people with eccentric talents and hobbies and skills I know and employ, of the  _indescribably strange and eclectic group of people assembled and working in my name_ , you are the  _only_  person I know who could possibly have caused that much trouble with a sharp object,” Evelyn says. “What the  _hell_  did you do?”

Mahanon scowls at her, “I am torn between being flattered and deeply insulted. Your unwavering faith in my ability to destroy things that cross my path with remarkable aplomb seems flattering but I am also annoyed that blame falls upon my shoulders at every instance. Ask your boyfriend.”

“My - what does Cullen have to do with anything?”

“Cullen,” Mahanon says slowly, like he’s talking to someone particularly dense, “Is a classically trained fencer from his academy days.”

“So are half the Templars, your point?”

“He’s a  _practicing_  fencer.”

“ _And_?”

“And,” Mahanon checks his phone, “My sister just texted me a picture of Cullen and Rylen wrestling a man to the ground. There’s swords involved. Oh, this is a good angle for her. Is that my eye shadow? Again? Really? She knows that’s my favorite palette and they don't’ make it anymore.”

Evelyn grabs the phone from his hand. He lets her do it. Because whatever she’s about to look at must be that bad.

It is definitely that bad.

“I can’t believe it wasn’t you. But your sister was somewhat involved so I feel like I am partially right in some weird way,” Evelyn concludes. “Maker’s fucking jock strap.  _Is that a blow torch?_  Who gave Sera a blowtorch?”

The fact that Kaaras didn’t lead with Sera and  _blowtorch_  is baffling enough.

“Wait, why did he say  _some guy_? Kaaras knows Cullen, they go to poetry slams,” Evelyn starts texting Kaaras on her own phone, and blanches when Kaaras responds.

“So?” Mahanon asks, taking his phone back from her as she slumps down in her chair, spinning it around half heartedly. “His answer?”

“Cullen took the sword from the first guy in order to subdue him and things went downhill from there,” Evelyn answers. “More swords, the blow torch, and I guess a wheel of cheese attached to a stick or something. We’re supposed to be an elite military and espionage force, Mahanon. What are we doing bludgeoning people with cheese and - and fencing foils?”

“It didn’t look like a fencing foil. That looked like a claymore.”

“Why do you know these things? Why do you know - forget it. Don’t answer.  _Don’t answer me_. Just. Go collect your sister and tell Josephine that we’ll need to dispatch some PR people.”

“Why do I have to tell her? I didn’t do anything wrong, why am I being punished?”

“Because she likes you and the two of you have little gossip parties together and you both get passive aggressive with people and it’s really sweet how you get petty with people who piss her off and vice versa. Or maybe it’s because I’m irritated and lashing out. take your pick. It doesn’t matter.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (314): I have blood and BBQ sauce all over my shirt. I blame you for the blood.
> 
> /
> 
> (307): Sorry you uh had to see that last night. That's the problem with open fields, no privacy...
> 
> -

 

“Isn’t that a little unfair of her though?” Malika says to Kaaras, “I mean. I’m pretty sure Evelyn would have gotten sauce on herself anyway. She was wearing a white t-shirt and it was a barbecue. It’s basically a law of the universe, if you wear white you’re getting a food stain on whatever it is.”

“I think she’s more upset about the blood,” Kaaras says.

“Oh,” Malika frowns, visibly taken aback, “Why? Isn’t that like…part of her job? Isn’t that like a gardener getting upset over grass stains on their knees or a mechanic getting annoyed over motor oil?”

“Well,” Kaaras doesn’t know how to answer this. This is where Ellana’s nonsensical sense would come in handy, or Maxwell’s sharp wit, or Cole’s poetic sincerity.

Kaaras, however, is simply Kaaras, so he doesn’t have an answer for this. So he says nothing and just shrugs.

He does ask, instead, “Why was there blood at a barbecue though? Did it come from the meat?”

Malika squints, “Define meat.”

“Was it alive, Malika?”

“It was quickly becoming  _not_  alive.”

“Was it a  _person_ , Malika?”

“…Yes.”

“That might be why she was upset,” Kaaras says, “You don’t normally have someone die at a barbecue.”

“But it’s an Inquisition barbecue,” Malika argues. “Of course you’re going to get assassins and stuff. And Evelyn’s  _Evelyn_  so you know. She’s going to get in it because she’s the target - usually - and she’s well trained to react to assassinations and she’s very good at handling them, maybe a little too good, but she would’ve made any assassin proud.”

“She’s not an assassin though. And maybe she just wanted a normal night to relax.”

“It’s the  _Inquisition_ , Kaaras.  _Constant vigilance_  is practically our motto.”

“No,” Kaaras says, “It definitely is not our motto.”

“Our log is an  _eye_. Vigilance should be part and parcel,” Malika protests. “Besides, it’s just a little blood. And it’s not like I was the person who made it happen. Why is she blaming me in specific?”

These are questions best aimed at the person who said the words and Kaaras doesn’t know why he’s being asked to explain Evelyn’s through processes when he can barely explain his own.

“Do you want me to ask her?”

“No,” Malika says, “I can ask her. I feel like this is very unfair of her, though. Also you should have come last night, Mahanon had a really nice outfit and Dorian was in top form. You would’ve loved it.”

He might have  _died_  from confusion and Kaaras is very glad that he had a delayed flight and only just got back to base an hour ago.

“Wait, did Evelyn just text you that now?”

“Yeah. They were up  _really_  late last night.”

“Where were  _you_?”

“Asleep, I’m still under age,” Malika reminds him. “Well. In this country at least. And they wouldn’t let me forget it. And you know? It’s so weird how picky they are with the rules they choose to follow. I mean, I’m too young to drink but not young enough to go out on missions and do tours? Very, very hypocritical.”

“That’s politics.”

“Point. Anyway, they made me go back to my dorm at around eleven - like right after the blood part happened - and I think they were just up cleaning and figuring stuff out afterwards. They should’ve let me stay up, I know dozens of ways to dispose of a body.”

“Malika. Please.”

“What?  _It’s true_.”

-

“What exactly did you see?” Vivienne asks. “A midnight rendezvous?”

“That would’ve been much more enjoyable,” Dorian says. “They were burying a body.”

“Oh,” Vivienne sounds disappointed. “Well. We do plenty of that, some of which the two of us are asked to assist with. I fail to see why this particular burying of a body would warrant an apology.”

“Well. The body was still alive and kicking, quite literally kicking,” Dorian says. “I think they might have buried it in a shallow grave as some sort of torture? I don’t know. I don’t want to know. Now all I can think of is what’s in the empty lots around Skyhold and I’m, frankly, terrified of what my imagination is capable of. I haven’t been able to look Herah and Ellana in the eye since. I expect it from Mahanon and Bull. Considering that the leader of our clandestine affairs is Leliana, former Left Hand of the late Divine, I  _know_  the Inquisition does these sort of things on occasion. I just didn’t need proof of it before my very eyes.”

Vivienne gives him a very condescending look that translates to  _you’re cute_.

“It does present a problem of deniability,” Vivienne remarks, pulling a pent out of her lab coat pocket and going to inspect some of their samples, nudging the covers of some of their experiments back before letting them fall again. “Has Solas been in here recently? I told him not to take my samples. I don’t care if we’re doing parallel experiments, he can get his own and cultivate them himself.”

“Check the log,” Dorian answers, “I haven’t seen him. How  _many_  bodies do you think are out there?”

“Think? Or  _know_ , darling? There’s a distinct difference.”

“Don’t tell me you’re involved with this.”

“Oh, no, of course not, Pavus,” Vivienne quirks an eyebrow at him as she goes to her desk and turns her computer on, pulling her notes out, “I’m not a biologist. I’m an experimental physicist. I just happen to know the gossip and rumors. And how to make them work for me. I don’t need to get my hands on that. Though I am surprised they didn’t involve you. You have a very good background in forensics and you are from Tevinter.”

“Those are two separate things that have nothing to do with each other,” Dorian says. “And you know what. Never mind. I don’t want to know…But out of curiosity, what do you think warrants that sort of torture?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea, nor do I care to know. Perhaps you should ask the Lavellans seeing as you are one of their favorites. I’m sure they’d be more than happy to oblige you in great detail."


	9. Chapter 9

[(276):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-276.html) [He has a syndrome called asshole. And it flares up 24/7.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74949.html)

/

[(919):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-919.html) [dude can you explain to me why i woke up on your sisters floor with moutain dew and chips everywhere](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74948.html)

[(1-919):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-919.html) [i dont know im at your house.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74948.html)

/

[(843):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-843.html) [Just made a drug contact standing in the sandwich line in the dining hall. Is this real life?](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74658.html)

[(1-843):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-843.html) [You're my fucking hero.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74658.html)

-

Bull looks up from his phone as he hears Ellana screaming with laughter from  _three rooms over_. He turns to Edric and says, “I think she’ll save you from her brother. She sounds delighted by your brazen bullshit enough that she might string you along to keep more of it coming.”

“Neat,” Edric says, “Not that I need saving from a guy about twenty years my junior. It’s not like he’s a threat to me.”

“Is that why you’re sweating so much?” Malika asks, very sweetly, as she holds her phone up to her uncle’s face. “And you’ve gotten so pale. Stomach flu?”

“Air conditioning is shit in here,” Edric replies, “I think I’m going to go outside. Get some fresh air. Enjoy the good weather.”

“Before Mahanon Lavellan comes to rip  _you_  a new asshole?” Stitches suggests, “I highly recommend it. I prescribe it, even. Want me to write that down on a Rx for you?”

“I am,” and everyone freezes as they look up to see Mahanon Lavellan leaning against the open doorway, and his sister holding her phone over his shoulder as she presumably films all of this, “Offended about so many things. Some of those things even pertain to  _you_  and this particular situation.”

“Do elaborate,” Malika says as Edric slowly goes limp in his chair, like a deflating balloon but sadder. “Please, Mahanon.”

“You don’t even need to prompt him. Why would you egg him on? Does his ego really  _need that_?” Bull says but Mahanon is already striding into the room, sister in tow. Ellana is grinning like a fiend.

“To name everything that annoys me would be yet another annoyance on that list, and to name everything offensive would offend me,” Mahanon declares, “But I am  _not_  offended by being called an asshole. I am offended that you would think I am offended by being called an asshole.”

“You are so, so contrary,” Stitches groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m leaving. I need to get back to the medical wing. I was only supposed to be out for an hour anyway. Tell me how this goes.”

Ellana kicks Bull’s leg until he pushes out from the table enough for her to squeeze in and sit down on his lap, Bull’s arm goes around her waist and Ellana refocuses her camera on her brother.

“It’s like you think little insults have the power to effect me. Calling names? Really?” Mahanon’s eyebrow ticks up, “What are we? Eight? Please. Come back to me when you think up a real insult. Anyway, let’s discuss one of the several other reasons I have for offense.  _Why_ , Edric Cadaash,  _do you think I couldn’t get to you if I truly had any inclination to?_ ”

-

“Why is Mahanon at my place?” Maxwell asks, groaning as Ellana drops a cold towel onto the back of his head. “How did I even get to  _your_  place? I mean. Why did I go back here instead of back there? Where I would sleep in my bed and not on your, admittedly very clean floor?  _How many sodas did I drink last night_?”

“Because he stayed over with Evelyn when we came back from the Herald’s Rest,” Ellana says, “Because he’s her best friend, and you stayed over with me because you’re one of my best friends. My other best friend is currently sleeping in my bed because he’s a delicate.”

“Why…am I on a bed of chips?”

“Well. You couldn’t pick a flavor, Max,” Ellana says, “So you opened all the bags and because you were kind of drunk you ended up dropping most of them and then you were trying to clean it up and then you fell asleep.”

“So you just left me there?”

“I was busy making sure Dorian didn’t cry and smear his eyeliner before he could take it off,” Ellana says, “You know he’s sensitive about people seeing the obvious use of make up on him. He goes for that natural look. Also you’re very heavy, Max. How was I supposed to drag you up the stairs? Bull’s not here and I don’t  _do_  heavy lifting. Not up stairs.”

“Where  _is_  Bull?”

“Dunno,” Ellana shrugs, “Probably waking up tied to a headboard somewhere, I’m sure he’ll turn up before dinner. Come on, up you go. Let’s wash cheese dust off of you and then we’ll go wash the smell of alcohol off of Dorian. That’s a two person job and if you distract him by being  _you_  maybe I’ll get a chance at tricking him out of the bed and into the shower.”

-

“Didn't know you had it in you, Rutherford,” Varric says, phone angled towards Cassandra as Cassandra gives Cullen a very stern, very concerned look. Cullen puts his phone down on the table, glaring at Varric before turning to Cassandra.

“I didn’t  _take_  any,” Cullen says. “Cassandra, honestly.

“Good,” Cassandra says after a moment of very, very intense eye contact before she resumes checking her emails on her phone, sipping her coffee. “Did you do reprimand whoever it was for trying to deal drugs to their superior officer?”

“I don’t think they worked here, actually,” Cullen says, “I didn’t recognize them and they weren’t wearing a badge. They might have been a visitor.”

“No, I’ve been looking for a dealer for two months,” Varric says, “Point them out to me, Curly.”

Cassandra visibly pauses, and Cullen can almost imagine the gears turning in Cassandra’s mind as she attempts to figure out why Varric was looking for a drug dealer and if she  _wants to know why_  before she continues to studiously plow through her emails one at a time.

Cullen, though, does feel the need to know so he asks, “Why are you looking for a drug dealer?”

“To get drugs,” Varric replies, “Obviously. It’s a request from Leliana. She’s trying to find a possible mole that we can turn and do some traces. So I’ll be needing your eager dealer, Rutherford. Man, I get the best luck when I’m with you guys.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (425): I’m a lady. I promise I won’t oogle your junk when we go skinny dipping.
> 
> /
> 
> (713): Don't try to butter me sideways
> 
> (832): That is without a doubt the most Southern thing you have ever said.

 

“On my list of priorities,” Maxwell starts and Herah bursts out laughing. Maxwell glares at her as she gets herself under control.

“You? A list?  _Of priorities_? Are you being serious?”

“ _On my very real, very important list of priorities_ ,” Maxwell repeats, “Sera seeing my cock is probably somewhere in the low, low, low six hundreds. Somewhere around impressing my second cousins or getting on my great uncle’s good side. I don’t care if Sera sees my genitals. I am against skinny dipping for reasons that don’t involve my body - my body which I am very proud of as it is probably one of my few redeeming features.”

“Redeeming feature being that you have features, right,” Herah’s eyebrows raise. “I’m still wondering why Sera has to convince you to go skinny dipping. You’re the one complaining about the heat and the humidity.”

“It’s a  _toxic pool of waste_ ,” Maxwell protests, “I can’t believe I have to explain this to people.  _I’m not exposing myself to toxic waste_.”

“You’re exaggerating. Just because it isn’t pure, filtered, clean, fresh from the iceberg water doesn’t mean it’s toxic waste.”

“Adaar, it fucking  _glows blue_  at night and there’s mutant fish that Dorian runs biopsies on swimming in there having mutant babies,” Maxwell says. “Why is it so hard for you people to understand this very basic concept of self preservation?”

Herah gestures around them, and then pointedly turns around and just holds her hand out in the direction of where they last saw the Iron Bull and Edric go, carrying dead bodies and fake evidence to plant.

“Why is it so hard for  _you_  to understand the context of the situation you’re currently living?” Herah replies. “Fuck, Trevelyan. Live a little. The world might end in an hour. Go skinny dipping.”

“No,” Maxwell says, “I’m not doing this to myself. There are thousands of other stupid things I’ll do to myself, but skinny dipping in a toxic pool isn’t one of them. I still don’t understand how I’m the one who comes out of this sounding like the unreasonable person. For once I’d like to think I’m being very reasonable. So reasonable my cousin would be proud of me, which should make me want to do this but it  _doesn’t because I’m being very reasonable right now_.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Herah says. “Maybe you drank some of that weird water and it made your brain go the right way instead of whatever it was doing previous.”

“Haha, you’re very funny, Adaar,” Maxwell scowls, turning around and squinting into the woods, “What’s taking those two so long? They’ve been gone for two hours already.”

“They’re doing what they’re paid to do,” Herah says, “A damned good job. Because if I have to come out here  _myself_  and fix it I’ll kick both their asses off a cliff and into a trench. I don’t have all day to clean up your messes. The only reason I go with you guys is because Evelyn wants at least one person to have some sort of head on their shoulders that  _works_.”

“I feel like that’s an insult to Edric.”

“Edric has the motivation of a particularly sleepy cat, he isn’t going to do anything unless you’re on him about it. Not because he’s lazy, but because he’d just rather not do his job.”

“He did sign on for a desk job, to be fair.”

“With those credentials?  _Please_. He should’ve lied on his resume if that were the case.”

-

“I have a question for you,” Cullen says, “You’re the only person I can ask.”

“You? Asking  _me_  for help?” Sera pinches herself, “Man, what kind of fumes was I breathing earlier? I thought I’d gotten my ventilation problem sorted but here I am, probably high as fuck. Alright, shoot, hallucination. What’s the question?”

“Fumes?” Cullen frowns, “Sera, have you move your lab again? I told you, if you’d just wait  _three days_  we could have your lab finished and approved through - “

“Okay, even I couldn’t hallucinate you talking like that, it’s just too fucking boring,” Sera says. “Ask the question, Rutherford.”

“You grew up in Denerim, right? Can you tell me if something is too…country?”

Sera gives Cullen a blank look.

“You’re the only other person from Ferelden that I know well,” Cullen explains. “I mean. There’s Dennet. But he’s…Dennet.”

Sera’s eyebrows furrow as she tries, very visibly, to name one other person from Ferelden in their circle of friends.

She blinks, eyebrows raising up, “Oh shit, dog lords represent. I’m seeing you in a whole new light, Rutherford. I guess we’ve got to stick together now. Never thought I’d say that about a straight white dude in a position of authority, but here we are. Unless you aren’t straight. I shouldn’t assume that. Whatever, don’t tell me, just ask the question.”

“The phrase…don’t butter me sideways,” Cullen says, “That’s not southern is it? People say that. That’s something people say.”

“Yeah?” Sera frowns, “Uh. I don’t know why you needed confirmation from another Fereldan on that one. Why?”

“I said that to Varric,” Cullen says, showing her his phone, “And he said it was southern? But it isn’t. It’s just…something people say. And then I got a touch anxious about it and I can’t ask anyone else. Leliana would destroy me about it and possibly lie, it would be too embarrassing to ask Evelyn, and I don’t talk about these sort of things with Blackwall or Cassandra.”

“Yeah, and everyone else we know is the exact same kind of shit Varric is, I see your point. Anyway, I don’t know what he’s talking about, what’s southern about it? People say that all the time,” Sera says, frowning, “I don’t say it as often because no one ever sucks up to me but that’s truer than toast. I think he’s fucking with you.”

“That’s what I was thinking too, but I couldn’t be sure. Thank you, Sera. I appreciate it.” Cullen hesitates.

“No, Rutherford, I am not fucking with you,” Sera says, “Honest to the Maker, I am not fucking with you. Dog lords stick together.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (206): How was your day?
> 
> (253): Peaceful. I left the house to get paid and get fried chicken.
> 
> /
> 
> (619): Help I accidentally unlocked this guy's tragic backstory and I need a rewind button!

 

-

“Just because you’re siblings doesn’t mean you two have to be in each other’s lives twenty four seven. If Kaaras and I were like that I would kill him. No joke, I love him but I can only handle so much of him at a time,” Herah says, handing Ellana some scissors as she continues to cut tags off of her new clothes. “Just because Mahanon went to get food without you doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you anymore.”

“It’s not about Mahanon leaving the house to get fried chicken, though,” Ellana protests, “It’s that he got fried chicken,  _ate it all,_  and somehow made the remains disappear? Like. I would have never known chicken was consumed. No bones. No receipts. No bucket or container. Nothing. Why is Mahanon hiding his chicken consumption from me? The only answer is that he’s lying and he did something else and he’s trying to cover it up with food.”

“That's incredibly distrustful of you to say,” Herah says, “Is this the Iron Bull or maybe Leliana talking? I still don’t know why you were moved away from research into  _being a pilot_ , when you really should be in the information network.”

“I’m a pilot because I’m the best one we have and I’m going to hold this over everyone for as long as possible to get the best possible benefits,” Ellana says, turning a blouse inside out and tossing it into a pile of clothes meant to be hand washed. “And Bull hasn’t been home in like, two weeks. I kind of miss him, he’d totally have validated my concern about my brother having secrets from me.”

“Siblings are allowed to have secrets from each other,” Herah says, “I mean. You told me that you had a tattoo for almost a full year that Mahanon didn’t know about and that he had three boyfriends in the same time that he hid from you because he know you’ talk shit about them.”

“Those weren’t boyfriends, Herah, those were booty calls, and he knew I’d talk shit because I’d take one look at them and know that my brother was fucking  _desperate._ And those are different. This is different. I sense it. Mahanon is lying about something to cover it up and it’s for…nefarious reasons. I just don’t know how to go about it. It’s my sisterly intuition at work. I know my brother and this is a bad kind of secret.”

Ellana sniffles, “What if he doesn’t trust me anymore?”

Herah looks around them at the collection of clothes, and does a quick mental calculation.

“I’m sorry. This is going to be so fucking offensive because if someone asked me this I would give them a fucking haymaker so hard that they  _die_. But. Are you being emotional about this - instead of the normally petty spiteful you would be - because you’re on your period?”

Ellana scowls.

“You went on a shopping spree, you’re highly suspicious, your moods are swinging towards the self-critical and depressed instead of the normal passive aggressive and cavalier,” Herah says, “Maybe you should think about this later, when you feel a bit more like yourself and  _not_  like a hormonal mess.”

“You’re right,” Ellana says, “But I also don’t want to admit you’re right.”

“That sounds more like you. But hey. If this is really bothering you? I can do an investigation for you. If it’d make you feel better.”

Ellana gives Herah a bright smile.

“You’re the best for indulging me, you know that?”

“I can also find the Iron Bull and drag him back. Might have to scrub off his entire first layer of skin first, though.”

-

“That sounds like Sera,” Evelyn muses, “What did you tell her?”

Kaaras shrugs his broad shoulders, “I didn’t answer, I was asleep.”

“Who do you think the guy was? Possible Jenny recruit, maybe?” Evelyn pulls a few more books off of the shelf, flipping them open, “Do you think you’ll need any references on the wind-psychic experiments from Orlais?”

“No, maybe when I’m fleshing things out more. Right now I’m just focused on the effects of telekinesis on physics and current known equations. Thank you. Anyway, Dagna texted me this morning to say that Sera came home completely sober. I guess the tragic backstory made her get out of there fast.”

“Did she tell you the tragic backstory?”

“Not yet,” Kaaras says. “I mean. Sera’s not the type of person to go around telling about other people’s lives. But if this guy is…”

“A  _bro_?” Evelyn suggests.

“She’s going to tell me everything from his social security number to what size socks he wears,” Kaaras continues. “But I don’t know how she would’ve ended up stuck hearing about a guy’s backstory like that if it was the type of person she avoids like the Blight. I mean. Sera wouldn’t even talk to Maxwell for a full month and a half before Malika introduced them by force. Now they’re good friends but based on appearances alone. I mean.”

“Based on appearances alone I’m surprised that Sera didn’t immediately get herself assigned to a different post to avoid Maxwell entirely,” Evelyn says. “He does have that…aura about him.”

“Beach boy meets Labrador,” Kaaras says, “In Sera’s words.”

“More polite words than I expected, honestly,” Evelyn admits. “I wonder what it is about Sera that she gets people spilling their life stories to her.”

“Dagna calls it manic pixie girl syndrome,” Kaaras says, “I didn’t want to ask further at the time.”

Evelyn grimaces, “Yikes. I don’t know what’s worse, that or mother figure syndrome.”

“Mother figure?”

“Oh, you don’t want to know. Trust me you don’t. What time are you supposed to meet up with Sera anyway?”

“Well. She said we were going to head out at one, but given her night I expect her to cancel it honestly. If you’re free we can keep going with the research. Honestly, I kind of hope she cancels. I don’t want to know the tragic backstory either.”


	12. Chapter 12

[(215):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-215.html) [why does every cop we meet know your name?](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74987.html)

/

[(406):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-406.html) [I just realized I'm not wearing clothes. I think my pants may be in the kitchen but I have no idea where my shirt is. I'm kinda worried.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74985.html)

-

“Well. It’s Kirkwall,” Varric shrugs. “I don’t know why they  _wouldn’t_  know my name. Kirkwall is actually kind of small town vibes if you get around the fact that’s…”

“That it’s  _Kirkwall_?” Maxwell replies. “Does everyone know everyone in Kirkwall? I don’t even know my neighbors back at Ostwick.”

“It’s Kirkwall,” Varric repeats, “If you don’t know your neighbors they might try framing you for something. Or stealing all your shit. Though, to be fair, they might do that if you know them anyway. It’s just a survival instinct, I guess. You’ve just got to know everyone so you know where to go or what to stay away from. Everyone knows everyone.”

“Sounds like an extended crime family,” Maxwell muses. “Didn’t Cullen live here for a while?”

“Everyone knows his name, too,” Varric says, “I thought Cassandra would have known that. I mean she stayed at Kirkwall for a while when she was interrogating me up one side down the other. And I think she came back again when she was recruiting Cullen for this.”

Varric turns around and yells towards the back of the diner, “Hey, Curly. Come over here for a second.”

Cullen looks startled, but comes over anyway, taking a seat at the row of stools. 

“What?”

“I’m proving a point to Trevelyan over here,” Varric says, “Who’s the family that lives in the building across from the Hanged Man?”

Cullen’s brows furrow, “It’s the Millers, but they’ve got joint ownership of the house with the Moore’s, and the Moore’s have been trying to push them out for over thirty years because it’s about four generations of each family living and doing business there. They share the first floor as a butchers shop and - I think the Millers recently got into fabric? I haven’t been here in a while, the situation might have resolved itself by now, honestly. I kind of hope it’s the Miller’s who get it. They’ve always seemed nicer to me whenever I was called in for something.”

Varric nods, “Nah, I think they’re still going at it, based on what Aveline’s told me. Alright, who’s the guy who sells fidget spinners down at the pier?”

“That seems very vague,” Maxwell starts to say but Cullen tilts his head.

“Isn’t that Ernie? He’s moved onto fidget spinners? What happened to the helicopter things?”

Varric gives Maxwell a look, “See? Everyone in Kirkwall knows everyone.”

Cullen’s eyebrows raise, “Of course. It’s a survival thing. How would you be able to get around Kirkwall if you  _didn’t_  know everyone?”

“You proved my point beautifully, Curly. A paragon of points,” Varric says. “Sorry to interrupt you from whatever you were doing.”

“I was just reading emails, it’s fine,” Cullen says, “Rylen’s been in the bathrooms for almost ten minutes. Either he’s been killed or he’s got food poisoning. I’m going to go check on him. If the rest of my squadron shows up just tell them to go on break, I don’t have anything else for them today.”

-

Herah looks up from her phone, and looks straight at Malika, “And this is why you don’t experiment with chemicals that everyone tells you not to experiment with. Especially when weird, probably cursed or fucked up magic is involved. I’m going to go help Sera. Tell Josephine we might have a problem. And then check and see who was with her last and try and find a record of what she might have been using.”

“Check the labs, check the kitchen, check the trash, got it,” Malika says, putting down the stack of mail she was helping Herah sort for Leliana. “Should I get Stitches?”

“Get Mahanon. Or Elana. Combined they’ve got so much experience handling people high out of their minds on questionable substances that they’ll have this situation done in less than an hour. Don’t come around, whatever she was working on might be airborne and I don’t want it messing wit you. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“No, seriously. I mean it. No peaking through windows, no trying to spy through the crack under the doors. I don’t want you there,” Herah says, pointing a finger at her, “I really mean it, Malika. I don’t want you to get hurt. I’m being serious and I need you to understand and listen and  _obey_. As if it were your own mother telling you this and not just your ranking officer.”

“Alright, alright!” Malika holds her hands up, “I won’t be there! You’re being really weird about this, Herah. You never pull rank.”

“Well you never listen when I tell you not to do something,” Herah says, tugging on one of Malika’s braids as they leave the mail room, “And I worry about you, kid. We all do. And Sera would feel real shitty if something happened to you because you went to check in on her. I mean. Remember last time?”

Malika grimaces, hand raising to her arm and rubbing the still puffy pink scar on her upper arm.

“Well. In my defense, that was more of a situation that came to me, rather than me going to it. I couldn’t help it!”

Herah hums in a way that Malika takes to mean she isn’t buying it, but isn’t going to say anything either.

“And it turned out fine, I still have my arm and it moves and everything,” Malika continues.

Herah looks down with a very bland and level gaze, “Malika. The Iron Bull had to pop your arm back into place and straighten it out because it was curled like a fucking pretzel. The man isn’t squeamish - someone who’s been through it like he has doesn’t come out of it squeamish - but even he had to admit to some very unsettled feelings about it. And you know how he is about feelings.”

“Hit them with a stick?”

“Yeah. The Iron Bull doesn’t have a stick big enough to hit that particular feeling with, so he settled for talking it out with Ellana while watching online tutorials on making the perfect hot coco. So. Because the Iron Bull isn’t going to watch the same hot coco tutorials over on repeat for the rest of his life,  _please_  stay out of this one until it’s safe. Okay?”

“Alright, alright. But I’m telling you. I can’t help it if trouble comes to me.”

“Don’t I know it. But let’s make an attempt to put you as far away from this specific trouble as possible.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (217):He passed out in my car.
> 
> (1-217):What's the problem?
> 
> (217):HE'S STILL IN MY FUCKING CAR.
> 
> /
> 
> (516): Just called to hear your voice and talk about pizza.
> 
> \-  

 

“Listen,” Sera says, and then stops because she hears the sounds of some really heavy beats in the background, “Wait. Are you at a club?  _You’re at a club?_  It’s  _Wednesday_.”

“Hump day,” Ellana replies.

“What the fuck. I asked you for help and you said you were busy.”

“In my defense, I’m here to kill someone,” Ellana says, “Do continue. Who’s in your car again? I have to limit my time looking at my phone. Eyes on the target, you know.”

“ _The guy I was trying to kill_ ,” Sera replies. “I mean. Not exactly kill, but con. And then maybe kill later? Depends on how this entire thing goes. And I’m not at the point where it’s okay to make him disappear yet.”

“Why is he in your car then?”

“Because I got him fucking drunk off his ass and offered to take him back to his friend’s house and I  _expected_  him to get out of the fucking car now that we’re here but  _he’s passed out and I can’t get him awake_. I can’t carry this fuck up six flights of stairs. I think this guy is half Qunari or something. He’s huge.”

“Roided out huge?”

“Maybe? Probably. I don’t know. Look, what do I do? I can’t just dump him on the curb, I’m trying to make this guy trust me.”

“Call Herah.”

“Herah said she was busy, or was that also a lie? Is she with you?”

“No. That would be too conspicuous, Sera, don’t be silly. I’m here with Max.”

“Who the fuck sent Maxwell Trevelyan on an  _assassination_  mission?”

“It’s a rich people club. For like. White humans. I needed a cover.”

“Andraste’s fucking pantyhose,” Sera groans, “I don’t know who’s got the worse situation right now. Do you need  _me_  to save you?”

Ellana laughs, “Call Kaaras.”

“ _He’s also busy_. Literally everyone was busy.”

“Even Malika?”

“No, not Malika, she’s got curfew, ‘cos she’s only seventeen. No plotting after ten thirty. Also no drinking. Where’s your boyfriend at?”

“Getting laid after a two weeks of intensive work,” Ellana replies, “Probably. I mean, he said he was going to meet up with some of his hook ups but I don’t know if they’re having sex right now or just doing some flirting. Ideally it’s just flirting because I think he’s gone to meet that girl who wears that one perfume that I don’t like and just sinks into everything. Like. Just completely absorbs into fucking  _everything_  and it takes like…a million washes to get rid of. He came home once from a session with her and I legitimately had to throw his clothes out because every time he wore any of them I would get headaches.”

“Okay, so he’s balls deep in something else. This doesn’t help me.”

"If you text him for help he’ll come, though, he’s good people like that.”

“If  _you_  texted him to come help you do something while he was having sex he’d go because it’s  _you_ , but I don’t know about me.”

“Trust me, he’ll help you. Your alternative is Blackwall or Cassandra. And do you really want them to help you on this Sera? Righteousness Pentaghast and Silent Judgement Blackwall?”

“Fuck. Point. Okay, good luck on your thing. I’m calling Bull.”

“Oh, Sera. I don’t need luck. I need a blowtorch from the bar.”

-

“That’s so cute,” Josephine smiles as she hands Cullen’s phone back to him. “That’s very sweet.”

Cullen frowns. “I know.”

“What’s wrong?” Josephine’s brow furrows, “Did you…not want sweet?”

“I do,” Cullen says. “I mean. I would still want to be with her even if she wasn’t sweet, and to be honest Evelyn isn’t always sweet and I like that plenty. But…”

“But?”

“This isn’t Evelyn.”

Josephine’s eyebrows raise.

“It’s her phone.”

“I know.” Cullen turns his phone over in his hands a few times. “But. Evelyn couldn’t have called or sent this message to me last night. It’s impossible. So I’m concerned that perhaps her account was hacked. I don’t know if I should bring this up to Leliana or not.”

“Why isn’t it Evelyn?”

Cullen scratches the back of his head, ears glowing a faint pink as he looks down at his phone.

“Oh,” Josephine’s eyebrows raise, “Well. That’s also very sweet.”

“It was nothing  _untoward_ ,” Cullen says immediately, “We were talking and it got late and I offered her my room and I’d take the sofa but things ended up that we were both on my bed and we just  _slept_  and that’s why it couldn’t have been her because I was with her the entire time. Even if she woke up and I was still asleep…Why would she call or text me while we’re in the same room together? Should I be concerned?”

“Have you told Evelyn?”

“She rushed out this morning because she had that meeting with some council members from Ferelden. And you know she doesn’t look at her phone during those. I have about two hours to figure out if I want to make a big deal of this or not.”

“Take it to Leliana. She might tease you for a while, but this is a security risk we can’t overlook.”

“What if it’s just a prank and I’m making a big deal out of nothing?”

“Cullen, we can’t risk that. Go talk to Leliana. If there’s a vulnerability in our network she needs to know, it’s her  _job_ ,” Josephine says. “Do you want me to take it to her with you?”

Cullen contemplates saying no, because he’s a grown man and he can do something as simple as bring up a vulnerability in security to his colleague.

“Cullen,” Josephine says, “We live in a duplex. She probably already knows.”

He feels his shoulders slump a little, “Please come with me?”

Josephine holds out her hand and he gives her the phone.

“What do I owe you?”

“Let Leliana stay over when I have Herah over,” Josephine answers immediately. “And the next time the three of us go out you drive. I love Leliana, I do, and I trust her with a lot of things. But driving a car is not one of them.”

Cullen grimaces. “Done.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (815): When you wake up and wonder why your bleeding and it feels like you jumped into a ceiling fan, dont worry. Ill explain it all when I wake up.
> 
> /
> 
> (713): I miss my innocence.
> 
> (832): I miss being able to say, "I've never done this before."
> 
> -

 

“So?” Bull asks, “What’s your problem? She said she’d explain it all when she wakes up.”

“The problem is I don’t know where she is,” Maxwell says, “So I don’t know why I’ve got this huge gash on my back, I don’t know why my skin feels like it’s been rubbed with steel brushes, and I don’t even know where Ellana is. I was hoping you would because you’re…together. Sort of. I don’t know what word you guys are using, honestly. Somehow boyfriend and girlfriend seems really immature? And too banal. You guys can’t have normal words like that applied to you. It just does you two injustice and makes the word look cheap.”

“Did you hit your head?” Bull asks after a pause, “You’re rambling more than usual. That’s worrisome. Didn’t think you had a setting that got  _more you._  No offense, Trevelyan.”

“I don’t know! I can’t remember! Maybe? It doesn’t hurt. So. Do you know where your…Ellana is?”

“ _My_  Ellana? If she ever hears you say that we’re  _both_  going to be in trouble,” Bull laughs, “Ask her brother. I swear it’s like he has some sort of tracker on her or something.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a super spy?” Maxwell groans. “I can’t ask her brother. I don’t know where he is and he never answers my texts unless it’s about work.”

Maxwell shudders.

He still can’t believe Mahanon got a chainsaw for  _that_.

“Well, I’m not asking Mahanon for you. He wouldn’t answer me,” Bull says. “And I might have training in espionage and information gathering but you don’t use that on your partner. That’s just asking for trouble and I’m not going to fuck this up. Ellana Lavellan is more than capable of dishing it back in kind and probably with a little extra on the side. I love her and I also love our relationship and I  _really_  love my current state of existence. I’m not spying on her.”

“Well how else am I going to find her?”

“Ask her brother. If it’s about his sister and you mention that you were hurt and don’t know where she is he might consider it interesting enough to look into. Who knows? You might have done something outrageous enough that he’ll call you to tell you how stupid it was.”

“You assume it was  _me_  doing something stupid. And that whatever hypothetical outrageous stunt I pulled didn’t work.”

“Oh, it could’ve worked,” Bull muses, “But it still would’ve been stupid. Stupid can work, but it’ll still be stupid. If you really want to find her maybe ask Leliana. She keeps tabs on  _everybody_.”

“Why are you spy types like this? What’s the point of all this mystery?”

“Aesthetics,” Bull says. “I’m going to hang up on you, now. Not because I don’t want to talk to you - you’re always a trip to talk to, Trevelyan - but because I’m driving and I’m attempting to run this guy off the road. Hey, tell Josephine my expense report might go up a few thousand. Text me later about how your thing with Ellana goes, yeah?”

-

“Overrated,” Herah and Mahanon say at the same time, high fiving each other without looking. “Listen, Evelyn, you had to get out of your ivory tower at some point.”

“It wasn’t a  _tower_ , Herah. I lived in a dorm that was vaguely cylindrical in construction,” Evelyn says, “My university was based out of a really old castle, kind of like Skyhold but not as big or nice or easy to expand upon.”

“You shouldn’t miss ignorance,” Mahanon says, ignoring Evelyn’s response entirely, “So when Sera and Dagna answer back with the ominous lines of something like  _not yet_  or maybe joke about you having sex, I’m going to point out that if it  _weren’t_  for your numerous near death experiences that involve an alarming amount of  _bears_ then you wouldn’t have met Cullen Rutherford. And more importantly, you wouldn’t have met  _me_.”

“I don’t know why you’re rating yourself above Cullen Rutherford on this one, Lavellan.”

Mahanon looks affronted and he flips his long hair over his shoulder, gathering it and twisting the hair into a high pony tail, “Because I’m obviously a better experience to be had than Cullen  _Stanton_  Rutherford. I don’t care if they’re going to have a million spawn together.”

“Spawn?”

“Face it, Evelyn,” Mahanon continues, “A life where you  _don’t_  know how to hit someone with a haymaker and have it be  _effective_  isn’t a life you want to have. You’d be bored out of your skull with the mediocrity.”

“He’s right, we’ve done nothing but enrich your life,” Herah says. “I mean. Do you honestly want to go back to a life where you can’t say that you’ve went head on against an Antivan Crow, an Antivan Ambassador, a Ben-Hassrath spy, a Red Jenny, a former hand of the Divine, and a semi-celebrity in a game of Wicked Grace and came out  _not_  losing any money? That’s boring as fuck and you aren’t a boring person, as much as you try to be. Come on. No more pity parties. Let’s get going. I hear sirens.”

“Late,” Mahanon sneers, wiping blood of his cheek as he starts rummaging through the pockets of the Venatori agent they’d just killed. “The response time for the law enforcement here is awful.”

“I wish I didn’t have a mental spreadsheet of law enforcement response times splayed out in my head,” Evelyn says, “I wish that comment wasn’t just another data point in that spreadsheet.”

“How’s the ranking going?”

“Better than Sahrnia,” Evelyn says after a moment of consideration, stepping back to let the two assassins do their work before the police arrive and Evelyn has to smooth it over as much as possible.

Josephine has stressed, repeatedly, how important it is for them to try and cooperate more with local law enforcement. Even if they do have priority.

“Everywhere is better than Sahrnia,” Herah points out, “They’re basically the end of the scale on everything.”


	15. Chapter 15

[(248):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-248.html) [Can you pay somone's bail with a credit card or just cash? I feel like you would know this.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74851.html)

/

[(719):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-719.html) [how does that bad decision feel?](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74752.html)

-

The fact that Vivienne de Fer calls him back instead of texting him should clue Dorian in on the fact that he’s about to get into it with her, but he picks up because he actually thinks she’ll be helpful to him.

“I do not pay bail,” are the first words she says to him, followed up with, “I do not put myself into a position where I would ever have acquaintances who would require bail money, or consider me a source for such money. Why are you asking this and why would you think I would know the answer?”

“Because you have money,” Dorian answers, “And frankly, everyone else we know would answer bail with murder, blackmail, seduction, or a heinous mixture of all three at the same time with a good dose of property damage along the way.”

Vivienne hums. It’s not a good hum. It’s not a bad one. But she hasn’t hung up, which is - so far - a win.

“As to why I’m asking, do you  _need_  to ask why I’m asking?”

“Was it Blackwall or Sera?” Vivienne asks.

“It was, surprisingly enough, Varric.”

Vivienne sounds distinctly surprised, “And he couldn’t talk his way out of it?”

“Well,” Dorian turns around and Sera just shrugs at him from the back seat.

“I’ve got nothing on my side,” She says.

Dorian faces forward, resists the urge to hit his head against the steering wheel, and continues to watch the doors to Kirkwall’s police station to see if Rylen and Blackwall will be coming out any time soon.

“It’s Aveline,” Dorian says. “I think she’s rather immune to his silver tongue at this point.”

“Gross,” Sera mutters from the back. Dorian rolls his eyes.

“On one hand she’s Varric’s friend, but on the other she’s Varric’s friend and known him for years. He’s not getting anything past her. We have to do this by the book.”

Vivienne laughs, “Darling, the obvious answer is to choose the book, and then paraphrase.”

“I don’t think that works in Kirkwall.”

“I think Kirkwall invented that method.”

“Do you have a suggestion on  _which book_?” Dorian asks, “If we’re playing by this metaphor?”

“The Inquisition’s of course,” Vivienne replies, “You should have called Leliana, or perhaps Cullen.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t say Josephine.”

“Oh, no,” Vivienne says, “The good Ambassador can’t be entangled up in this sort of…baggage. Best to have it handled by the people no one would look twice at.”

“Right. Thank you for the help, though you didn’t actually answer my question.”

“It was the wrong question, darling. Obviously. Ta. I’ve got a dinner appointment I need to get ready for. Let me know how it goes.”

-

“Does  _everyone_  know?” Mahanon groans as his sister as she helps him from the bathroom back to his room, “Our  _cousin_  just texted me to ask about it.”

“Which cousin?” Ellana asks, breath a little too loud as they struggle to lean against each other to form a stable and somewhat upright ambulatory figure.

“Lyna,” Mahanon says, “Theron sent me about fifty texts that I didn’t read and then called me four times before having  _mother_  call me and let him use her phone to see if I was okay. I was drugged out of my mind and I think I told him that he’s lucky that he got his mother’s eyes and I was always jealous of his hair.”

“All truth, I wish I was there for it but at the time I was in  _surgery_  and I’m still so mad that no one filmed you high off your ass on drugs for me. It would’ve been the perfect thing to wake up to,” Ellana complains. Her skin feels a little sweaty where her palm rests on his hip as they hold onto each other to stagger to Mahanon’s bed.

“Stitches is going to rip a new hole in you for absconding from your room,” Mahanon says.

“It took me like, half an hour? Half an hour to get here and I almost passed out. I’m not going back to my room,” Ellana says. “There were  _stairs_  involved. Anyway, I’m pretty sure everyone knows. I think they might have told mom and dad because they were pretty sure we were both going to kick the bucket and they were letting our next of kin know. And you know? That’s weird, because they shouldn’t have been told. Why were they told? I have Surana down as my next of kin. After you, of course.”

“ _Neria_?” Mahanon hasn’t seen their wayward cousin in  _years_  and he prefers to keep it that way. He imagines that if he ever put Neria down as his next of kin she’d come just to bring him back from the dead, chew him out, and then kill him again.

“Hell no, Alim.  _Duh_.”

“What’s  _Alim_  supposed to do if you die?” Mahanon asks, careful with Ellana’s IV drip as they gingerly get back up onto his bed. “I don’t think either of us have seen Alim since you were four.”

“That’s the idea, Mahanon,” Ellana says. “If no one can find Alim then they can’t  _tell him_  anything. And that means mother and father would never find out about my tragic and most likely ill-fated demise.”

“That makes no sense. I’d tell mother and father.”

Ellana looks him dead in the eye, “If I die there is no world in which you did not die before me or in the same ill-fated incident. You might have been born first but there’s no way in hell that you’re dying last.”

“I am… _unnerved_ ,” Mahanon says after a long and considerably uncomfortable pause.

“Good,” Ellana says, carefully arranging their limbs on the narrow bed and looking around for the remote to the TV. “Anyway, did you respond to Lyna?”

“No. I haven’t responded to anyone except mother and father.”

“What about gran-gran?”

“Gran-gran hasn’t messaged me,” Mahanon says. “Or it’s in our group chat, which I haven’t looked at because it’s literally blown up with messages.


	16. Chapter 16

[(702):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-702.html) [Your sister just admitted to being a " much bigger bitch" than you. So you've got that going for you, which is nice.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-75021.html)

/

[(678):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-678.html) [kick those bitches in the teeth and tell them mama came to party](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74579.html)

-

“That's not a challenge,” Evelyn says, taking a sip of her tea and grimacing. It’s still too hot. Maybe she should’ve gotten something with ice this time. “Mahanon, that’s not your sister challenging you in a very passive aggressive way.”

“You don’t know my sister like I do,” Mahanon says, eyes narrowed at his phone before he shoves it into his pocket. “It is most certainly a challenge, because in our specific branch of the Lavellan family tree  _I_  am the biggest bitch and I’m not tolerating this insubordination.”

Evelyn pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Mahanon, you’re generally not supposed to aim towards being a bigger bitch than someone. In this specific context she’s trying to comfort Cole.” Evelyn follows Mahanon as he walks out of the cafe, dumping his drink into the trash on the way out. “Mahanon, come on. We were having such a nice and relaxing stake out.”

“Our target hasn’t left that building in the past two hours, either they’re dead or there’s some other way in that we don’t know about. Have Leliana or Bull investigate the floor plans, or send someone in to do a check on it tonight when it’s closed for the day,” Mahanon replies dismissively. “I just didn’t say anything because I was comfortable and didn’t feel like getting up.”

“ _Mahanon. We’ve wasted two hours here for nothing?_ ”

“It wasn’t a waste, I got free drinks,” Mahanon says, and he turns on her so fast that his ponytail almost smacks her in the face. Evelyn narrowly dodges in time. She doesn’t know how or why, but being hit by Mahanon’s hair hurts more than anything. It’s like his hair is  _knives_.

“She may have succeeded in comforting Cole but she’s succeeded in offending me deeply,” Mahanon says. “And I’m going to make her regret it.”

“Mahanon,” Evelyn groans. “She was trying to tell Cole that sometimes people aren’t nice to each other and explain how being unkind and hurtful in one situation doesn’t make you an overall bad person. Herah just didn’t give you the context for it.”

“So she had to bring me in? And  _compare_  us? That was a challenge,” Mahanon declares, “Give me the keys, you drive too slow.”

“You mean at the speed limit?”

“Limits are meant to be broken. Keys.”

“No,” Evelyn says, “I’ll drive us back, you’re too angry to be driving.”

Mahanon flashes her an incredulous look, “Too angry for driving?  _Really?”_

 _“Yes,”_  Evelyn walks ahead of them to their car, sighing and sending a warning text to Herah as Mahanon sulkily slides into the front seat. “Were you two always like this?”

“It’s a Lavellan tradition,” Mahanon says, “Every sibling group has to determine the hierarchy.”

“This is fascinating and somehow explains something about the two of you I feel like I’ve been missing since I first met the two of you,” Evelyn says. “Do you guys compare who’s the biggest bitch among…cousin groups?”

“Neria Surana, undoubtedly, and not a single one of us would ever consider challenging her. Honestly, she’s such a distant cousin that I’m fairly sure we aren’t really related anymore, but we respect her authority and she will maintain that title until she so chooses to abdicate,” Mahanon answers.

“You make it sound like a royal  _title_ ,” Evelyn laughs.

Mahanon blinks at her, “Is it  _not_?”

-

“This is terrible advice for a pitch meeting,” Evelyn says, turning towards Herah and Ellana who just shrug. Evelyn waves her phone at them. “Guys, this is terrible advice.”

“Why did you ask Sera for advice?” Herah replies, taking Evelyn’s phone from her and putting it into Evelyn’s pocket for her. “If you wanted solid advice that wouldn’t end up with hurt feelings and damaged bodies then you wouldn’t have asked Sera for a motivational text speech. I mean, I’m here. Ellana’s here. Max is in the bathroom, and he’s pretty good at motivational speeches.”

“He’s also got terrible food poisoning,” Ellana says, “If he opens his mouth it might not be words that comes out. Why did we bring him? I feel bad for him. Poor thing. I offered to go with him and hold his hair out of his face but he said it’s a public restroom. And I guess that’s supposed to mean something to me.”

“Max is here because he arranged this meeting and if he doesn’t show chances are the other party won’t even hear us out,” Evelyn says, “Again. Why am I here?”

“Because you’re the Inquisitor.”

“Fat lot of good that’s doing me, no one listens to me,” Evelyn squeezes her hands together. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“No, you had to come here, because this needs to come from you. This isn’t even a pitch  meeting. What are they going to do if they don’t like you? Fight the  _sky_  by themselves? Find someone else with a magic glowing hand? I don’t think so. It’s you or death,” Herah straightens Evelyn’s blazer and picks off some lint from the shoulder. “And you’re going to do great. You’ve pulled off things more important than this on less preparation. Excellent clutch plays and stuff.”

Ellana steps closer and adjusts Evelyn’s lapels and starts arranging her hair with deft fingers, “Don’t even worry about it, Evelyn. You’re going to impress everyone and win them over just like you always do. And if you don’t, then Herah and I will look suitably intimidating and we’ll bad cop good cop them into being charmed by you. This isn’t our first rodeo, Evelyn. Don’t be worried.”

“And remember,” Herah squeezes Evelyn’s shoulders, “We’ve got Josephine on our side. There’s nothing Josephine can’t fix because she’s Josephine and a gift from the universe.”

Evelyn looks faintly green, “Hey. Max and I ate the same thing last night. Maybe I have food poisoning too. I feel so bad. We should cancel.”

“Nope,” Ellana smacks Evelyn’s back hard. “Nice try. Now, be comforted by Herah and my presence and go kick in some teeth.”


	17. Chapter 17

([615):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-615.html) [Yeah I knew you'd like him. He's emotionally and physically self destructive.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74641.html)

[(1-615):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-615.html) [We would have so much to talk about!](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74641.html)

/

[(208):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-208.html) [Let's just grow old together and be the crazy ladies that sit on the park bench, drinking booze from flasks and loudly talk about people who walk by.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74324.html)

-

“You’re all terrible people,” Evelyn says as Ellana, Mahanon, Kaaras, Malika, Herah, Sera, and Varric huddle together watching Max and Dorian interact. The volume is down low, but Evelyn can still distinctly hear them going back and forth with each other. Like two dogs who’ve just met. “We’re supposed to be…welcoming Dorian to the Inquisition, not unleashing emotional hell on him.”

“I’m glad you understand that your cousin is emotional hell,” Mahanon says, blindly reaching over to pat at her face, “Now be quiet, I want to hear how this goes down. Either they’re going to end up dating or they’re going to end up crying and storming off from each other.”

“Max hasn’t dated a boy in seven years and his last breakup with on ended up so bad that he bleached his hair,” Evelyn says, and then pauses. “You know, it might actually be the right time. The bleach is finally all gone and he looks like he isn’t a drunk fraternity member at all times.”

“Well, Max seemed interested when I told him about Dorian,” Ellana says. “This can’t go terribly  bad. Max is like a puppy and Dorian is like…maybe a dog person.”

Herah and Mahanon shush them.

“I knew I stuck around for all the right reasons,” Varric says, leaning against Kaaras, “Oh, nice. Sparkler’s throwing out the big words. I think he’s challenging your cousins’ intellect because he looks like an  _ex_  drunk fraternity member.”

“I’ll have you know that Max had some of the highest marks,” Evelyn says in the defense of her favorite cousin. “He was a Human Resources major.”

Everyone rolls their eyes at once.

“Predictable,” Mahanon sneers.

“How come he doesn’t work with Josephine under HR?” Malika asks.

“Because he’s so much better as a PR person,” Herah replies. “You can’t waste that behind a desk. You need that kind of charisma out in the front lines selling Inquisition phrases down the throat.”

“Sounds harsh. Like a regime.”

“You need a regime to fight a regime,  _shh_.”

“How did you get this equipment in here by the way?” Varric asks Ellana, who’s resting her head on top of Malika’s to watch the laptop screen.

“With my secret Dalish ways.”

“You grew up in the suburbs,” Malika says. “What secret Dalish ways?”

“Your family is so wholesome it makes Josephines look average,” Herah adds on. “You guys have newsletters and a group chat for every combination of cousin, aunt, uncle, parent, grandparent, niece, nephew, and other extended family member and you know each group chat by  _name_. What secret Dalish ways?”

“The same ones that taught me how to fly an aircraft. Obviously. Oh, hey. They’re hugging. That’s fast. I didn’t think Dorian was the type to be a hugger. Unless drunk. It’s nine in the morning on a Tuesday, they can’t possibly have drunk anything. I think this went well. They’re going to be friends.”

“Not so fast,” Varric says, “The hug looks a little tense.”

“A petty hug,” Mahanon says, “Full of  _I’ve got a point to prove_.”

“You’re reading into it too much,” Malika says. “They’re friends now.”

“Ask them each that separately and see what you get,” Herah says. “Alright, break it up, if we’re all found here together it’s going to look suspicious.”

-

“I’m down for it,” Ellana says, “But Malika, this implies that you won’t find someone else to grow old with. You’re like…sixteen I think you’re a touch too early to write yourself off like that. You’re a wonderful young woman and I fully believe that you’ll be able to find several different people to surround yourself with in your old dottage. Let’s face it, I’ll probably be a hundred something by the time you’re ready to retire yourself to a porch somewhere. You’d have to take care of  _me_  at that point.”

“Right,” Malika says after a minute of contemplation. “I forget you’re that much older than me. You seem so cool.”

“I  _am_  that cool,” Ellana corrects. “We need to find you more people your age. That’s really the only problem. The only other people your age are Sera and Dagna. Though Dagna is older than the both of you. Hm. The Inquisition lacks children. Wait. Cole.”

“Cole is  _Cole_ , I don’t think Cole gets an age.”

Ellana frowns. “We need to do outreach to the childrens.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t call them  _childrens_.”

“My brother calls your age group spawn and juveniles.”

“Okay, so about the outreach to the childrens.”

“That’s what I thought,” Ellana taps her chin, “It’s hard to encapsulate all of the things we’re trying to work on at once in a way that’s palatable and in a few short sentences. Rehabilitation, reclamation, abolishment of certain establishments, destroying both the patriarchy and hegemony, rallying against overt capitalist dictatorial influences…hm. There is, also, of course, the problem of the whole Breach in general. Just chilling in the sky.”

“I think all of those things sound pretty rad and appealing to…childrens.”

“I know, but you’re you, Malika. As nice as it is to rally minorities and disenfranchised groups we do need to get at least a few of the…hegemony…on our side,” Ellana says. “Ugh. This is a Maxwell and Herah problem. I can’t lie, cheat, or steal my way through this one. This needs diplomacy and compromise.”

“I think you’re plenty good at diplomacy and compromise.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Malika, but  _no_ ,” Ellana smiles, patting Malika’s hand. “Anyway. Remind me to bring this up with the others later. And about the whole growing old together thing? I am completely down for it, but let’s table that until you’re maybe sixty. I promise I’ll still remember it. I don’t think I’m the type to go senile, based on family history.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Malika laughs, “I don’t think anyone in your family is capable of forgetting anything. Even if you guys got amnesia. The cure for amnesia is probably in your DNA. Restorative genes or something.”

Ellana winks, “And that’s a secret I’m taking with me until my grave.”


	18. Chapter 18

[(617):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-617.html) [this is a mass text: the cage has been opened. repeat, the cage has been opened. a search party will be organized. you are all sloppy bitches. that is all.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-75062.html)

/

[(626):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-626.html) [sorry for the late response. was in jail for 6 months.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-74234.html)

-

“I’m sorry,” Sera says, looking away from her phone to Kaaras, “But  _what the fuck_.”

Kaaras is just staring at his phone, cheek in his palm. “I don’t know, Sera.”

“What cage?  _Kaaras_? What  _cage_?”

Kaaras puts the phone face down on the table and puts his head in both hands, now, groaning, “I don’t know. I don’t want to know. But with my luck I know I’ll be the first to find out.”

Sera starts texting back in the group text; she sees a dozen other people already typing away and she wonders if any of them know what the hell is going on and if they have any context for this. It would be nice if Sera had about ten percent understanding of what’s going on at any given time but sadly  _no._ You’d think being a somewhat higher ranked member of the Inquisition would give you some sort of understanding of all the bullshit that’s being juggled at once but it just makes things more confusing somehow.

“I don’t understand any of you,” Sera says as Kaaras just holds his head in his hands like if he doesn’t see the world the world can’t see him, and therefore can’t pull dumb shit on him like this. “ _What cage_? Andraste. Ellana Lavellan is simultaneously so chill and also stupidly frustrating. It’s like if a jock and a hipster and a nerd smoked elf root and then formed a blood pact with some kind of dark and elder unspeakable abomination and had a baby that was raised in pastels in the suburbs that went to school for some kind of humanities major.”

“That’s so specific,” Kaaras says. “It’s like you’ve thought this out before. It’s like you’ve thought about this  _a lot_.”

“You know how sometimes we have to spend literal hours in small cars trying to stay awake and generally not zoned out? These are the things that Dorian and I talk about,” Sera replies. “Mahanon’s texting that he’s got eyes on it, because of course he does, but no one’s said what it is.”

Kaaras flips his phone over and starts typing.

Sera leans over his shoulder and then smacks his arm, “Hey! You’re planning an escape and you’re only inviting Malika and Cole? What about me?”

“You do okay with all of the crazy,” Kaaras says.

“Malika is one fifth of the Inquisition’s crazy all on her own!”

“But she can protect me from it,” Kaaras protests. “It’s a different crazy. She can control it and stuff.”

“You’re like three hundred pounds of bone and magic and you’re running away to be protected by a teen dwarf,” Sera says flatly. “Kaaras. Really?”

“Really,” Kaaras replies, “I don’t know how you guys handle it all. I’m already an anxious mess without the cryptic  _the cage is opened_  stuff. I mean. Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat because I suddenly remembered that one time where a taxi driver told me to enjoy m time at the museum and I said  _you too_. Why did I do that? Oh my god.”

Kaaras’ face starts to flush.

“I’m so awkward,” Kaaras drops his phone onto the table and puts his face back in his hands. “I’m so, so awkward. I should have never left my research. I should always be in my room with my research by myself.”

Sera’s about to say something when her phone chimes and she glances down at it.

“Mother  _fucker_ ,” Sera says, staring at the text, shaking Kaaras’ shoulder. “Adaar pull it together, this isn’t the time for the pity party. We can do that later and I swear I’ll have something really like…deep and impactful and stuff for you t hen but right now we’ve got to  _go_.”

“Why?”

“ _The cage had a baby dragon in it,_ and the reason she said we’re all sloppy bitches is because  _Maxwell and Rocky_  accidentally broke the cage and scared the fucking thing off onto a rampage, _that’s why_ ,” Sera says, grabbing his sleeve and yanking as she grabs her backpack, “Maker’s fucking ballsack, how the fuck did I not know we had a  _baby dragon on base_?”

-

Leliana dials the number back immediately, “You were  _what_?”

“Don’t worry,” Zevran says immediately, “I escaped. It was part of a very long plan I’ve been working on to - “

“You were in  _prison_?” Leliana says, “There was a prison with enough hubris to think that they could hold you?  _There was some sort of legal proceedings in which they thought it would stick_? How did I miss this?”

“To be fair, you are quite preoccupied with the whole Mage-Templar-Chantry mess, and on top of that there’s this entire Inquisition business,” Zevran says. “How is that going, by the way? Do you think you could use some help? I find myself a little low on funds. The job did not pay nearly as much as I thought it would. I mean. I may have had a little excess expenditure along the way, but one can never account for how much leather one needs, no? Sometimes life just throws an opportunity at you and you have to grasp it. Firmly. Lovingly. And a little playfully with a touch of - “

“ _Zevran_ ,” Leliana cuts in before he can really get into it. There’s a time and place for such a thing and Leliana has always found him to be terribly amusing when he gets on a roll, but right now she’s focused on - “How did I not know you were in prison? I know everything. At this very moment Alistair is trying to convince his head chef that an entire cheese wheel is a good idea for a mid-afternoon snack. It won’t work, of course.”

“Ah, I had a body double,” Zevran says. “Which is a great part of the expenditure, by the way. At the very last moment he upped the price on me. And now that I am out of prison I see he used that money in very…well. He wasn’t very smart with it and I’m disappointed in how it was all wasted. Though I admit some of the things he did with it? Choice. I can respect some of the paths walked. Or straddled.”

“You hired a body double to  _be you_  while you were in  _prison_.”

“Yes.”

“Where did you get the money for all of this to start with?”

“From my previous job, of course. You need to spend money to make money. Also I told Surana about it and she sent me a check after the words  _body double_  and a note saying that she’s going to rate my escape if it was better than hers.”

“No escape from any prison will ever be better than hers, considering that she did it naked,” Leliana replies. “You told Surana but not me?”

“Well. You would have stopped me. And how could I ever say no to you?”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (303): I'm sorry, but the bed has won this battle. I got up, changed my shirt, combed my hair, put on some deodorant, and then looked at my bed and got back in
> 
> (615): You were just laying there on the air mattress watching spongebob with a knife. We tried to take it from you, but you insisted it was your emergency escape in case you started to float off.

“That’s fair,” Herah says, “If I got beat up on the regular like Maxwell did I’d want to take a sick day too. Mental health day. Whatever it is that gets you back up later.”

“He arranged this meeting,” Evelyn says, “What am I supposed to do now? Show up?”

“Well. Yes?”

“ _Without Max_?”

“What, do you need your cousin to go with you on dates to? Hold your hand when Cullen kisses you? Gives you a thumbs up when you start rolling condoms?”

“Herah.”

“You don’t need Max for this, is what I’m saying,” Herah shrugs her shoulders, pointedly looking at the car door. “Now. Get out. We’ve been sitting here in the drop-off zone for thirty minutes and even though we’ve got Inquisition plates this is pushing it. We want them to like us, not think we’re entitled douchebags who just hog the drop-off zone for a literal half hour and then  _leave_.”

Evelyn groans, “I have no idea what to do here. Max had all of the plans. He just said I need to show up and not say anything. I literally have no idea what I’m doing here. He just said I could show up and then go, I just needed to put in an appearance for five minutes then excuse myself.  _No one even gave me a brief of this_.”

“That seems unprofessional.”

“ _Max setting up this meeting and asking me to go for one five minute appearance and then bailing on me is what’s unprofessional_ ,” Evelyn snaps. “Andraste, can you go in for me?”

“What? No.” Herah stares at Evelyn and points to her hand, “I’m missing a very key ingredient for that.”

“No. I mean. You’re one of our best negotiators. Go talk for me.”

“Evelyn, you used to give speeches and lectures and tutorials and everything. You know how to handle the unruly.”

“That’s different. When I was a Professor people  _had_  to listen to me. I didn’t have to  _convince_  them of anything. You don’t need to  _like_  your professor,” Evelyn protests. “I’m not a diplomat.”

“But you are an heiress.”

“A disowned heiress. I didn’t get that far in society, Herah. Please? Come on. Don’t make me pull rank on you.”

“Evelyn Trevelyan, if you pulled rank on me to make me do this you’d never see me again,”  Herah says, “Get the fuck out of this car and be a grown up. You’re fast. I’m sure you’ll pick up on whatever it is fast. Also, you know how to bullshit. You lived among undergrads for years. Go get them. Professor Evelyn Trevelyan takes the stage.”

“If I throw up will you cover for me?” Evelyn asks, finally putting her hand on the door handle.

“That, I will do,” Herah says. “You’ve got this.”

“Thanks. Well. Here I go. Maybe off to doom the Inquisition.”

-

“Mmmm,” Mahanon’s eyes are narrowed. He looks a mess. Which, for Mahanon, just means that his hair is a little messy, his clothes are a touch rumpled, and his complexion is a little off. Otherwise he looks exactly like normal.

“This is what Dorian means by that text. You know, you could have just called him to explain it to you.”

“No.”

“Well. You almost cut another one of Bull’s fingers off,” Malika says, “Your sister kept trying to tell everyone to go away but we were worried because of all the drugs and the knife.”

“Even drugged out of my mind I know how to use a knife, Malika,” Mahanon says. “No. It didn’t happen. I hate that TV show.”

“No. It happened. Here, I took video.”

Malika holds her phone out to him and Mahanon takes it. Through the speakers Malika can hear the raised voices of people arguing, the sound of the TV, and Bull swearing.

“Mmm.”

Mahanon blinks once, “No. It didn’t happen.”

He starts tapping at something and Malika lunges for her phone but Mahanon - even still sick and wounded - dodges easily.

“You deleted the video.”

“What video?”

“I don’t know what’s with you and Herah and pretending to be absolutely perfect at all times,” Malika says, sullenly taking her phone back and loozing at her photo-reel and mourning the lack of back ups. Twenty-twenty hindsight and all that. It is Mahanon Lavellan, after all. She really should’ve thought ahead a bit. She was just so happy he wasn’t loopy and didn’t have a knife anymore.

Well. Honestly, he probably has a knife somewhere around here.

“It’s okay to be silly.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Mahanon says, yawning and running his fingers through his hair, “You want breakfast? Bull brought breakfast burritos.”

“Ooooh, food from off base? Aweseome. Heck yeah I want some. You owe me for deleting stuff on my phone.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea about what you’re talking about,” Mahanon says, standing aside and letting Malika inside. Malika can hear Ellana and Bull’s voices from the kitchen. “You can have half of mine, I’m not hungry.”

“That can’t be good.”

“I ate half a baguette before Bull and Ellana woke up,” Mahanon explains, “And half a stick of butter. I’m giving the other half of mine to Cole. He’s still asleep.”

“Cool,” Malika says, “Hey guys.”

“Hey,” Bull raises a hand, there’s a bright white bandage on his palm where Mahanon cut last night. “Breakfast?”

Ellana kicks out one of the chairs and grins at her, “He deleted the video.”

“He deleted the video,” Malika confirms.

“What video?” Mahaon drawls, sitting down and pulling over a paper bag, reaching in and pulling out a burrito wrapped in yellow paper. He hands it to Ellana, “Half.”

Ellana takes it and goes to the kitchen counter to get a knife to cut it.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Malika says. “As an aside. I don’t know if I said that yet.”

“It’s appreciated,” Mahanon says, “Juice?”

“Please.”

Mahanon gets up again to go to the refrigerator.

“You’re good,” Bull says, winking at Malika, “Leliana has surveillance.”

Bull neatly tilts his head to the side and the orange Mahanon threw at Bull’s head bounces off the wall.

“That’s the orange I was saving for sangria! Careful with it!” Ellana protests, rushing to pick it up, handing Malika her burrito half on the way. “Just throw one of the protein shakes. No one’s even drinking those.”

“I am.”

“With the amount always present in the fridge I can’t tell, babe. Do you buy them as you drink them?”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (903): He brought me another shot of rum, ice and my underwear when I woke up.
> 
> (1-903): What a gentleman.
> 
> (903): I KNOW, right?!  
> /
> 
> (478): I don't know what to say to you.
> 
> (814): I don't know what I said to you. Start with that.

“That's probably not what you’re supposed to do when someone’s shot and recovering in the hospital,” Max says, “Why were you missing underwear?”

“ _Fresh_  underwear, Max,” Evelyn says, prodding at the bandage on her hip, “Bull wasn’t going to make me stay in grungy underwear I had gotten blood and mud on for thirty six hours. And that’s why he’s my person. He thinks of all the little details like that. I appreciate that very much.”

“How did he get rum into the medical ward?”

“Uh. Hello? He’s  _the Iron Bull_?” Ellana rolls her eyes as Maxwell pushes her wheelchair past the nurse’s station, “Ignoring how he’s the Iron Bull? Stitches and Dalish work here. It’s not that hard. That fire extinguisher over there? That’s just a rum cask.”

“That’s definitely a safety hazard and a violation of some sort of health code.”

“Only if there’s a fire.”

“Ellana, please do not tempt fate into setting the Inquisition’s  _brand new and recently built medical ward_  on  _fire_. Please.”

Ellana flips off the ceiling, “Fate favors the bold but I have no need for favors from fortune.”

“That sounds so deep,” Max says, staring down at the crown of Ellana’s hair, “Why are you so deep? It’s not even drugs. You aren’t on any. Wait. Where did he get the ice?”

“It’s a hospital, Max. Ice isn’t that hard to get.”

“He snuck in a  _shot of rum_  - “

“Bottle.”

“ -  _ice_  - “

“I don’t know why this is so hard for you, Max. I really don’t. You’re acting like he’s brought me the Philosopher’s stone or a chunk of raw lyrium.”

“ - and  _underwear_  without anyone noticing the very large man carrying a bottle of  _rum_?”

“Max you would make an absolutely awful undercover agent, please don’t let anyone ever put you on any sort of clandestine assignment ever. If they try it send them to me, I would happily go in your place.”

“Does anyone I know actually understand the functions and rules of a  _hospital_? Including the doctors?  _Anyone_?”

“Chill, Max,” Ellana says, “And did you bring me the goods?”

“Yes, I brought you the  _goods_ ,” Max says, “Cheese chips and peach gummies.”

“The lemon drops?”

“And the lemon drops, yeah.”

“Excellent.”

“Do you just have a series of people bringing you stuff from outside the hospital?”

“You all have your specialties and I wouldn’t trust you to bring me ice if you were the ice cream man, Max. That said, I love you very much. You are a good friend.”

-

“What did I say to your brother last night?” Dorian asks Ellana as soon as she picks up the phone.

Ellana turns around to where said brother is giving Cole a haircut.

“Don’t  _tell him I’m on the phone with you_ ,” Dorian hisses. “This is a conversation that isn’t happening. What did I say when I was drunk from my bi-weekly Scholars meeting?”

“Is that what you guys call it? I thought it was your bi-weekly shit-talking fest,” Ellana says, moving from the living room to her room and closing the door. Bull glances up from the gun he’s cleaning. “Hey, no guns on the bedspread. We had an agreement.”

“The kitchen is taken,” Bull says, “And you’ve got your projects spread out in the living room.”

Ellana points at the door, “No guns on the bedspread. Move my stuff.”

Bull sighs, collecting the gun components and heading out.

Ellana waits for the door to close and for his footsteps to retreat.

“Alright, so. Did you call him? Or did you just…meet up with him? How did you know that you said something.”

“Well. Drunk me left a note for sober me to talk to your brother. I thought that maybe we had a new assignment, or perhaps he had a message for me. So I texted him and it was hinted at that maybe I said something I should maybe be worried about.”

“So I can’t just check his phone and find out?”

“No. That would be so much easier. I need you to get him to tell you what it is and then you tell me. Or help me find witnesses. Something so I don’t fly into it blind.”

“Dorian, I think you already did now you’re just trying to figure out a way to fly out of it without leaving any vulnerabilities. That’s going to be difficult, finding vulnerabilities is my brother’s third greatest skill after fish-tail braids and deadpan humor. No matter what I say he’s going to know that I’m asking something for you. You should just ask him straight out. He’s usually nicer to people about their drunken actions than most people think he would be.”

Ellana sits at the dresser and starts playing with a bottle of nail polish that Cole had bought her. It’s a soft mossy green with bits of glitter in it. It was a really sweet gesture of him and she can’t wait to use it.

“Not on my life am I going to risk that encounter,” Dorian replies. “I need to triangulate at what stage of drunk I was when this encounter happened, where it was, and if there’s anyone who can back this up.”

“Just ask him. Trust me, as his  _sister_ , I know that it’s going to be a lot softer and easier in the long run. Even the short run. If you drag it out by doing all that stuff you’ll only make it worse. He might not be so nice if he finds out that you were being weird about it. Then he’ll make you deserve it.”

“No, no. I can definitely fix this.”

“Rip it off like a band aide.”

“You aren’t supposed to rip band aides off.”

“It’s a human expression,” Ellana says. “Look. Do you want me to get him for you right now? I’ll let him know you’re feeling really apprehensive and to go easy on you and everything.”

“No. I’m going to call Herah.”

“What’s she going to do?”

“Teach me dignity and grace in defeat, obviously.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.


	21. Chapter 21

[(619):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-619.html) [No way man ... This is real life. Complete sentences and everything.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-75265.html)

[(908):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-908.html)

/

[I’m really regretting these suede pants.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-75244.html)

“Complete sentences? That’s the standard now? My, how times have changed,” Vivienne says, “I didn’t realize the bar was set so low.”

“Bar? Meet ground,” Dorian muses, tapping his fingers on his desk as he waits for his computer to restart. “How bad is the Inquisition’s stance in the world that we’re scraping the absolute bottom of the barrel for personnel? Does not one realize we’re attempting to save the world from literal evil? It’s not even metaphorical evil. It’s literal evil, shown up on all of our doorsteps,  _that’s ripped the sky open_.”

“Have you seen the masses? Look at Orlais,” Vivienne says, “Two idiots fighting for a throne held by a competent woman.”

“Are you still mad about your…displacement? I notice you called her competent. You used to say much nicer things,” Dorian muses.

Vivienne sneers, “Parlor tricks and mysticism. Has Maxwell texted back yet?”

Dorian checks his phone, “No. I’m thinking this means that they’re about to sign someone who can write in complete sentences. And the fact that they can write in complete sentences is the highlight of their entire…I don’t know if you can call it a resume. That seems a touch generous.”

“It’s entirely possible that we are getting  _only_  the most basic of applicants because we  _are_  fighting a great and powerful danger,” Vivienne says. “The risk reward factor and all.”

“The reward is that you help not get  _killed_ ,” Dorian says. “I don’t understand why this is such a difficult concept.”

“You aren’t part of the masses, darling,” Vivienne says. “You’re used to  _leading_  the masses, not being part of them. You were raised to be a leader. And look around you, the Inquisition is made of nothing but strong willed, ambitious, changers and movers of the world.”

“No offense to the good men I’m about to point out, but explain Edric and Kaaras.”

“Edric may be world weary, Dorian, but he is quite strong of will when it comes down to it. And Kaaras hasn’t come into his own but he is a good man. Anyone can see that,” Vivienne looks incredibly fond before shaking her head, hands in her lab coat as she steps away from her research to go through her purse. “I’m going to get some refreshment. Do you want anything?”

“If I gave you my order you’d purposefully neglect the slightest detail of it,” Dorian says, standing up, “I’ll go with you. I don’t think IT fixed my computer at all.”

“Did they tell you to restart it the next day?”

“Yes.”

“They absolutely did not fix it, they’ve been using that on everyone. Even Evelyn. They’re  _very_  back logged and their top priority is Josephine,” Vivienne says, tossing her lab coat onto her chair.

Dorian also shrugs his lab coat off and follows after her, “You mean to tell me that Josephine’s computer and various systems are so  _broken_  hat they haven’t been able to fix them this entire time? And they’re letting that get in the way of the top researches the Inquisition has?”

“Well. We really don’t want anyone getting to our personnel files or getting through to our correspondence, no?” Vivienne says, gracefully flicking her shades open and onto her face as they step out of the lab building into the sun. Dorian squints, getting his own sunglasses out as he follows her to her car. “Everything we do relies on the security of our communications and the complete privacy of our personal information. I, for one, don’t mind the wait time. You should ask the Iron Bull or Skinner to look at your computer. They’re actually quite talented with machines.”

-

“I am horrified that those two words were put together in one sentence,” Ellana says.

“You’re horrified at the thought of  _pants_.”

“But pants  _and_  suede? Together? What kind of twisted self inflicted torment is that? Did…do you think she paid money for that?” Ellana turns to Herah, “Do you think Evelyn would actually pay money for suede pants?”

“Suede is actually kind of in, right now,” Malika points out. “It’s retro.”

“It’s  _suede_. It goes around your zone,” Ellana says. “That’s…just so bad.”

Herah shrugs, “You’ve seen how Evelyn dresses. She’s…eccentric. She dresses as eccentrically as you act.”

“Does she though?” Malika says, “Does she  _really_? Because I think Evelyn mostly dresses pretty neat, except for the odd occasion where she brings out…some bad decisions.”

“Do I dare ask what color the suede pants are?”

“Warm brown,” Herah says, “They look pretty good.”

“It doesn’t matter how they look, her poor, poor body parts must be  _dead_ ,” Ellana says. “Who in their right mind would wear suede anything when going to the Kocari Wilds? It’s  _humid_.”

“It’s winter,” Herah says.

Ellana points at her, “You know as well as I do that winter is a myth in that region of Thedas.”

Herah grins, “Yeah, but she definitely doesn’t.”

Malika’s eyes widen, “Did you trick Evelyn into bringing winter gear to the Kocari Wilds?”

Ellana stares, “You are one wicked and wonderful woman, Herah Adaar. I would kiss you right now.”

Herah leans back in her chair, arms behind her head as she grins to the ceiling. “Shouldn’t have cut my funds.”

“I love it,” Ellana cackles, “I absolutely love this side of you and I wish you’d let it show more often.”

“Can’t let you have all the petty fun,” Herah says.

“This changes my entire outlook on you,” Malika says, “You’ve turned my everything upside down. Or at the least, on its side. How did I not know you were an asshole this entire time? I thought you were like…really nice and even tempered for the past  _year_.”

“I’m very good at what I do,” Herah says. “Manipulating public perception? Top of the list. There’s a reason why I’m reporting to Josephine instead of Leliana, Malika.”

“I understand everything now,” Malika says, sounding completely awe struck as she slowly goes back to stabbing at her salad. “Hey, you know. It’s been like…half an hour and our real food hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Well,” Ellana says, “It could have to do with us calling in reinforcements to have the kitchen staff arrested for lyrium smuggling.”

“Right,” Malika says, “But that crepe looked so good.”

“Ellana,” Herah says, still looking up at the ceiling.

“Well. I do like Malika an awful lot,” Ellana says, getting up, “Alright. I guess I can make us lunch. You guys come with me though, I don’t want to have to yell out of the kitchen door to be part of this conversation.”

Ellana snags one of the passing Inquisition soldiers currently in the middle of bringing out documents from one of the manager’s back offices, “Hey, I’m going to start cooking lunch for…I guess everyone? I’m going to need a list of allergies and dietary restrictions.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (215): look, bitch. one day when everyone i care about deserts me for my severe moral depravity, you're going to be the only one i have.
> 
> (302): i can't wait.
> 
> /
> 
> (515):
> 
> it was like where's waldo, only the stakes were much higher.

 

“There are so many assumptions at work here,” Varric concludes, handing the phone back to Merrill. “I mean. We’ve all stuck with Isabela until now, I don’t know what she thinks she can do to make us leave at this point. I’m pretty sure that all of us have pretty severe moral deficiencies. Ethical complications for sure. And how come you’re the only one she thinks she can rely on?”

Merrill sucks at her bright pink…something with extra cream, and shrugs her shoulders. “I’m worried about her. I don’t think she’s taking to being on dry land very well. She says I shouldn’t go to her because it’s not a big deal and I have all my projects, but she’s my friend and I love her very much. I should go see her and make sure she’s okay, right?”

“She said don’t go so you probably shouldn’t. She might not appreciate you showing up when she’s feeling off,” Varric says, “How do you think it’ll play out if you show up explicitly uninvited?”

Varric pauses, “Wait. You show up everywhere uninvited, and yet are warmly welcomed. Is that a Dalish thing? It’s almost the opposite for me. People demand I show up for shit and then treat me like garbage.”

“It’s a survival skill,” Merrill says, “Dalish people are rarely invited anywhere, Varric. Sometimes I have trouble getting into my car, that’s how uninvited I am. Thank you for inviting me out today, Varric. I missed you. We haven’t talked in what feels like forever.”

“We text and group call all the time, Daisy.”

“I know, but it isn’t the same,” Merrill plays with the wrapper for her straw, “How are things with the Inquisition? I heard Cullen Rutherford is in charge of military affairs. Is that…okay?”

“Curly? He’s fine,” Varric says, “He’s different. I think the whole Kirkwall situation changed him. Plus some other stuff that I’m not going to get into because it’s private and I don’t think he’d like me talking about that stuff.”

“You’re good about things like that, Varric,” Merrill notes, “Normally you’re kind of a tit about things, but sometimes you’re very good and kind. Just like how you always have people looking out for me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Daisy. Not a clue.”

“I’m on to you, Varric. I really am.” Merrill smiles at him, taking a bite of her pie.

“Nothing to be on to, here, Daisy. How are things in Kirkwall? Aveline handling well?” Aveline doesn’t really message much. She’s pretty busy. He’s seen a few pictures of her from Donnic’s feed though.

“Aveline handles everything well. Everything is really coming together very nicely. She’s got a very good handle on at least half of the corruption in the city and everything.”

“Nice. Any word from Fenris?”

Varric mostly gets one word texts from Fenris in group chats on the rare occasion and very fascinating pictures every few days. Fenris’ longer texts are usually reserved for legitimate conversations instead of the random bullshit that goes on between the rest of them, unless it’s to deliver the most amazing burn.

“Handling the other half of the corruption!” Merrill says, beaming, “He’s a very good leader, you know?”

Varric isn’t sure if controlling corruption through intimidation is leading so much as it is pounding stray nails into place.

“Damn, moving up in the world from squatter, huh? How things change.”

“The house looks very nice now. I’ve planted lots of vegetables on the property. No one ever goes there or anything so I can plant everything I want without anyone messing with it.”

-

“You  _lost_  the  _Inquisitor of Thedas_?” Josephine’s voice is deadly even.

Bull feels a shiver go down his spine. Impressive stuff.

“I didn’t  _lose_  her,” Bull says, “I know where she is. I’m just not in the same place as that.”

“Where is this place?”

“That way.”

“ _That way_.”

Bull gestures even though he’s talking on a phone and Josephine obviously can’t see, “Yeah. That way.”

“And why aren’t you  _going_  that way?” Josephine asks. “Get her. Now.”

“There’s a problem,” Bull says, “Just. Listen. I would love to go get her, you know. Do my job. Earn my paycheck. Get you not pissed off. But there’s a slight, slight problem.”

“And that problem is?”

“Well.” Bull looks around, “She took the car.”

Josephine is quiet in a way that demands an explanation very succinctly and very quickly.

“She went willingly. And she took the car,” Bull says, “A blackmail situation, I think.”

“What kind of blackmail does anyone have on  _Evelyn Trevelyan_?”

“I don’t know,” Bull says, “But she sounded pissed. I think it wasn’t to resolve the situation but more because she was mad and was going to kick ass for people even considering that she’d fall for it. I don’t know why she kicked me out of the car. I’m a better driver. Maybe she wanted to lull them into a false sense of security? I dunno.”

“Go get her.”

“I don’t have a car.”

“ _Run_.”

“Hardcore Montilyet. I’d love to. I’m more of a punch-jab person than a running person. Bum ankle. Remember? If I send you the direction and general location you think you could get a pick up for me and a dispatch?”

“You should have led with that.”

“Probably, but you called me before I could call  _you_. I don’t know how you found out so fast, props to our information gathering teams.”

“There’s a tracker on the both of your phones, and hers went in one direction very fast and then cut out. We think she ditched the phone,” Josephine says. “Leliana’s been arguing that we should put the chips in you but the replacement cycle would be very high and we don’t have the funds to continuously putting new trackers in you.”

“Isn’t that a violation of employee rights?”

“When we have a million flight risks? At this point its the only way we can figure things out.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (847): Alright, I've had enough of this good girl shit. Tonight you either blackout or backout.
> 
> -
> 
> (914): I fell out of my bed whilst trying not to move this morning. I AM ADULT
> 
> (954): I had ice cream for breakfast two days in a row.
> 
> (954): SUPER ADULTS

“What did Sera mean by  _good girl shit_?” Herah asks as she follows Evelyn to the car. “I’ve gotten drunk the past three girls’ nights out. I shouldn’t have, because either Josephine is drunk or I’m drunk but we  _both_  can’t be drunk because who’d help the other one get sober?”

“Well. You’ve been around, but you haven’t been your usual level of present,” Evelyn says. “You really need to stop trying to impress Josephine with how wonderful you are. You’re already dating, you don’t need to do anything anymore. I mean. I’m pretty sure Josephine knows you’ve got a wild side. Pretty sure we all know that, former private security agent.”

Evelyn smirks, “We all  _know,_ Herah. I’m pretty sure Josephine likes that side of you just as much as she likes every other side of you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Herah says.

“You’re concealing nothing, Herah. Josephine might have actually gotten invested in you because of how multi-faceted you are.”

“Is that what they call former delinquency the days? Sounds a lot politer,” Herah muses.

“You’re also really good at getting us good deals and worming out information when you aren’t trying to pretend like you’re lawful good,” Evelyn says. “I think Sera’s mad because we had to pay full price for everything.”

“Lawful good?”

“Did you know that Cullen is really into tabletop?” Evelyn asks, “Did you know that whenever we go out he goes to a tabletop session run by the Iron Bull? How unfair is that? I want to play, too.”

“You nerds deserve each other.”

“You’d like it if you tried it. I used to play a lot but once I started teaching and working on research papers I kind of lost track of time and my schedules stopped lining up with my old group.”

“Oh, I’ve tried it. It’s fine. But you and Cullen are definitely the kind of nerds that deserve each other in the best way. Us girls should run a game.”

“Or we could stop going out and try and crash their game.”

“Nah, we can make a better game.” Herah stretches her arms above her head, leaning against the car as they wait for everyone else to arrive. “I bet Ellana would be a great DM.”

“I don’t think I’d survive a game run by Ellana,” Evelyn says. “Harding would be a great DM.”

“I feel like Harding’s too busy to run a game,” Herah says, “I’d suggest Leliana but I don’t think I want to try it with her. I’d do something and she’d kill my character instantly.”

“Sounds unfair.”

“Sounds like Leliana,” Josephine’s voice says. She smiles as she joins them, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear as she takes Herah’s hand.

Herah instantly starts grinning like a dope.

“I could run the game,” Josephine says, “I played all the time back in school. Constant travel and time zone changes aren’t conductive to good session scheduling, though, so I’m a little rusty.”

“Josephine versus the Iron Bull?” Evelyn muses, “I know who has my vote. Is it only the three of us in my car today?”

“Ellana’s not going, she has some last minute things to take care of for a flight out tomorrow,” Josephine says. “I think Sera, Dagna, and Skinner went on ahead to find a new place to eat before we get drinks. Dalish is coming later with Cassandra and Leliana.”

“She got Cassandra to come?”

“If she ever quits working with the Chargers I’m signing her.”

-

“You got that lump falling out of bed?” Edric’s eyebrows raise. “And your first reaction was to brag about it?”

“I wasn’t  _bragging_  about it,” Max says.

“I have so many concerns. Isn’t Ellana lactose intolerant?”

“Just because it gives her the worst everything doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy a good, good butter pecan scoop or two. I mean. Who am I to judge?” Maxwell says, “Okay. Try starting the car  _now_.”

Max steps back and waits. Nothing.

“Still busted,” Edric says, “What now?”

“Now I keep trying,” Max says. “Anyway, sometimes you just need the smallest things to get through your day. And if terrible stomach pain and inevitable shits is the price Ellana chooses to pay to get through her day that’s her choice. When I was younger I spent a solid year motivated  _only_  by the thought that I hadn’t played the latest Pocket Friend game and the promos looked  _so dang good_.”

“The one with the little egg mascot?”

“Yeah, that one. It was literally the only thing that kept me going for a while. Then the game came out and I got a little better at life and here we are.”

“You’re surprisingly deep for someone who looks like a frat boy, Maxwell.”

“Thanks. I know why everyone says that, but I was kicked out of my frat for being too,” Maxwell gestures vaguely, “I guess not frat enough? Also? Too many polo shirts. Just too many polo shirts and snap-backs. I couldn’t take it, if they didn’t kick me out I would’ve walked. No joke.”

“You can quit a frat?”

“If you’re very bad at it you can.”

“I have a strange feeling you tried very hard to be bad at it.”

“I plead the fifth,” Maxwell says. “Can you call Ellana or Mahanon? This is maybe a little too complicated for me and one of the two of them would maybe have an idea of what I should try next.”

“As if I could get either of them to answer the phone,” Edric says. “Did you see anyone about your head? That could be why you’re having trouble with this.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve had worse. Didn’t even feel like throwing up.”

“Why didn’t you want to not move this morning anyway?”

“Oh, my new kitten was asleep on my leg and I was trying to ease out without waking her up.”

“The kitten from the litter from the barn cat?”

“Yeah! I got the cream colored one. So cute. I die. I’ve taken like a million pictures and I’ve only had her for two days. I’m going to call her Cream.”

“Creative.”

“It’s what she responds to best, actually. I’m not going to change that on her.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (605): Dude, A DAMN CHEESEBURGER HIT ME IN THE FACE!!! WTF was i suppoused to do!?.
> 
> /
> 
> (+44): just drove past - why are you walking towards the shop in your pyjamas?
> 
> (1+44): Can't talk, on a quest for bacon.

 

“Let me see if I’m understanding this clearly,” Leliana taps her finger on her desk looking between the two agents standing in front of her, “Sera and Maxwell were in pursuit of our target and were stopped by?”

Cooper shrugs a shoulder, “A cheeseburger.”

“And  _where_  did this cheeseburger come from?”

Cooper and Tailor glance at each other before Tailor answers, “Well. Our target threw a bunch of things out their car window and one of those things was a take out bag.”

“From a burger place?”

“Yup.”

“And the burger  _hit Maxwell in the face_  causing him to lose control of his motorcycle and in the process run off the side of a cliff - thankfully not too far and with little injury - and lose track of our suspect?”

“That sums it up quite succinctly, ma’am.”

Leliana sighs, “Did  _we_  lose our leads?”

“I think our cover is effectively blown on this case. Infiltration will be difficult and time consuming,” Cooper says. “It’s probably best if we do this the old fashioned way.”

“The old fashioned way?” Tailor asks, turning to Cooper.

“Get Mahanon on it,” Leliana says, “He’ll track them down and get everything we need within the week. Cooper, how did you find out about this again?”

“It was in the chat log, ma’am,” Cooper says. “Maxwell and Sera were also arguing about it very, very loudly. Sera is upset that Maxwell threw her off of the motorcycle.”

“Good call, it might have saved her from serious injury. All she has is road rash and some bruises,” Tailor says. “Meanwhile Maxwell’s got fractured ribs, a concussion, loose teeth, and a lump on his ankle the size of a Qunari fist.”

“Yikes.”

“Well said,” Leliana muses, sighing. “Alright. So what else do I need to know about our current operations in Ferelden aside from us losing one of our best leads, Sera and Maxwell being down, and the knowledge that Maxwell Trevelyan makes good judgement calls regarding the safety of others under pressure?”

“We’ve got plates,” Cooper says, “Trevelyan reports them back very clearly. We also have make and model of the car, as well as the brand names for some of the things that were thrown out of the vehicle. We were able to obtain a few receipts after sweeping the area. It’ll take some time to check if they’re receipts from the van or not, but it can be done.”

“Good,” Leliana says. “Anything else after that?”

“Kaaras Adaar and Edric Cadaash have safely reached our foreword base at the Approach,” Tailor says, “Progress is going along well. We may need to reassign some of our agents southwards to assist with information gathering. It looks like there’s a lot of networks operating at once, interfering with Cadaash’s set up as well as Adaar’s attempts at research.”

“Tap Harding and have her redistribute our personnel,” Leliana says, “If we need to I’ll request joint operations with the Commander and commission a few of his people to assist on our less difficult tasks. If anything I’m sure he’ll let us borrow the Chargers. Dismissed.”

-

“I haven’t heard from her since,” Cullen says, taking his phone back from Josephine. “She hasn’t texted or answered the phone. No one else has heard from her either. I asked Blackwall and Bull. I asked Rylen and Harding, I even asked Varric.”

“Have you asked Leliana? She knows where everyone is.”

“She’s my next stop after you, I was hoping you had any idea of where Cassandra is. I’m concerned.”

“I don’t know why you would be, she’s Cassandra Pentaghast,” Josephine says, “Though the words seem a touch unexpected and unusual from her. If she’s on a quest for bacon she’s going to get it and she’s going to be fine.”

“But why wouldn’t she just  _drive_  there? And wouldn’t she be back by now?” Cullen says, “What if she’s been abducted? Yes, Josephine. I know that sounds absolutely ridiculous, but it’s a possibility. A slim possibility, but a possibility. I think we need to look for her.”

“I think you need to finish your cup of tea and get back to work,” Josephine says. “You’re just stressed because of all the budget approvals you have to sign off on. The ones you’ve been procrastinating for the past two weeks and are due in two days.”

“Why do I have to do this?” Cullen says, “I’m the  _Commander_  of the army, not the treasurer or finance officer of it.”

“You do it because I say so and you’ve got a head for math and finance,” Josephine replies. “Just like if you ever told me to drop to the ground and roll underneath the nearest piece of furniture I’d trust your judgement call and do it.”

“I don’t quite follow how one relates to the other. You aren’t worried about Cassandra?”

“Not really, Cullen. She’s  _Cassandra_. Sometimes I don’t even think  _old age_  will get her. Death somehow seems like an option she chose not to elect. Don’t ask me how or why I came to that absurd, but somehow very plausible, conclusion. I just did.”

Cullen shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m going to go ask Leliana for help.”

“You can do that but she’ll just say the same things I just did. Maybe in a more mocking and judgmental manner,” Josephine says. “I meant it about your budget though. It’s due in two days and I’m not giving you an extension no matter how much I like you.”

Cullen’s mouth quirks up, “You like me?”

Josephine rolls her eyes, standing up with him and walking him to her door, “Cullen. You are a good colleague, a valuable asset, and a treasured friend. Yes. I do like you. I especially like you when you do as you’re told and get your work submitted on time. Go have Leliana talk you down about Cassandra and go back to your desk and get it done. I’ll check in on you with tea and lunch in three hours.”


	25. Chapter 25

[(330):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-330.html) [Its not something you can force it it just has to happen like a rainbow or pooping](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-75365.html)

/

[(775):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-775.html) [FYI bail money is still in my drawer. I know you have no car but you need to know this for tomorrow.](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-75308.html)

-

“You compared Cullen asking Evelyn out to pooping?”

“It’s not my best simile to date,” Malika admits, “But even I know that you can’t set that up artificially with any planning or plotting. It’s just got to happen. It’s like how my mom and dad met and started going out. Dad didn’t plan on it. Mom just went up to him one day and said she liked his face and wanted to see more of it, and Dad said yes, and now here I am.”

“But your mom has confidence and initiative to spare,” Kaaras points out. “Cullen and Evelyn, when it comes to dating, have the initiative of snails.”

“And yet,” Mahanon says stretched out in the back seat of the car, a cold cloth over his eyes, and his feet swung up on the car door, “They have the ability to built the sexual tension of rabbits in spring with just a single meeting of the eyes. They are the protagonists of every badly written slow burn fiction.”

“Ouch,” Malika says, “That’s a little harsh.”

“It’s a little true,” Kaaras says. “They’re good at building the rapport and the conversation and all of that. It’s just…”

“When it comes time for someone to say  _let’s continue this conversation elsewhere_  or even suggest a meeting of the minds, lips, bodies, or glances on  _purpose_  at an appropriately intimate venue they chicken out,” Mahanon says. “I hope they’re satisfied with their chance meetings and conversations because if they have to do this  _naturally_  without anyone else interfering that’s all they’re going to get until the day they  _die_.”

“And with the way things are going that might be soon,” Kaaras says. “Not to be. Um. Morose about it. We’re supposed to move out for the strike against Adamant in two weeks and I don’t think either of them have moved past  _last names_.”

“It’s been months.”

“It’s almost been a full year,” Malika groans. “You’re right, but trying to interfere will just make it worse. I mean. You know them. It’ll just backfire so badly. Because they’re so weirdly awkward at the worst times.”

“Strange for two extremely competent people.”

“That's the highest praise from you,” Kaaras notes.

“Isn’t an extremely competent person just a competent person?”

“No,” Mahanon says. “How long does it take to lure a dunce into a trap, anyway? It’s been three hours.”

“How’s the migraine?”

“Alive and well, presumably.”

“Kaaras wasn’t talking about Max,” Malika says, “He meant your actual migraine in your head, dum-dum.”

Kaaras lowers his voice - Mahanon will hear it anyway, but he likes feeling as though he made an effort - “You are the only one who can get away with calling Mahanon things like that. It’s because you aren’t an adult, I think.”

“No, it’s because we’re friends and friends make jokes,” Malika says.

“I wasn’t talking about Trevelyan,” Mahanon says, and then makes a vague gesture to the right of the car, yawning, “The migraine. Alive and well. Sort of.”

Kaaras and Malika look out the window and then start scrambling to get out.

“About fucking time,” Herah says, “What took you? I’ve been trying to get your attention for ten minutes. This fuck is annoying.”

“I thought you were going to lure him here?” Kaaras asks, helping Herah get the thrashing man under control.

“Plans change,” Herah says.

“You didn’t knock him out?”

“Mahanon likes his targets conscious when he starts working on them,” Herah says, “I barely got the guy gagged, alright? Come on. The Inquisitor also didn’t want him hurt. Badly.”

“Define badly, Mahanon’s migraine is still going and he’s cranky,” Malika says.

“Well if she put Mahanon on this that’s probably the standard already.”

-

“I need you to drive this over to the embassy,” Edric says, “I’d say give it to Josephine but I think she’d let Varric stew in jail for a while to make a point.”

“Why did Varric give  _you_  his bail money? What happened to your car?”

“Malika’s learning to drive with it,” Edric replies. “And I don’t know. I don’t know why anyone does anything anymore. I do wish they’d leave me out of it. I don’t need this kind of responsibility, I’ve already got Malika and I’m pretty sure I’m not doing so good at that.”

“Now you’r just talking down to yourself, you do a great job with Malika,” Max says. “She’s a remarkable and talented young woman that shows great promise in worrying fields of espionage, fighting, and sabotage. But then when you consider her intended job prospects it all fits in quite nicely. Yeah, I’ll take the bail money to the embassy.”

“Thanks and thanks,” Edric says, “Also, don’t tell anyone about it. I don’t think I should have to say that, but don’t tell anyone about this. Especially not Cassandra.”

“Why would I tell Cassandra?”

“Because Cassandra could breathe in your direction and you’d tell her everything you think she needs to know. You’re weak like that.”

“I am not. I can keep a secret from Cassandra Pentaghast.”

“I’d say I’d believe it when I see it, but I wouldn’t want to risk it,” Edric replies. “It’s okay. You’re weak for strong women who are in charge and know it.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

“Yeah, you just cave more than most do,” Edric claps Max’s arm, “Better get going. The longer Varric’s in jail the higher the chance that Cassandra finds out and goes to kill him for embarrassing the Inquisition. Or the higher the chance that the police officers at the station kill him to get him to stop being…Varric.”

“He’s famous though, I don’t think they could disappear him that easy.”

“He’s Varric,” Edric says flatly. “I believe in him to piss people off so bad they ignore all logic.”

He has a point.

“Alright,” Max says, tucking the envelope under his arm, and pulling out his phone, “Which embassy do I need to take this to? And can I bring Herah along?”

“Yeah, better bring her. I probably should’ve asked her but she reminds me of my sister sometimes and I freeze.”

“Strong women who are in charge and know it?”

“Got it in one.”


	26. Chapter 26

([714):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-714.html)[The more drunk I get the more I want to steal a lamb](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-76804.html)

[(714):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-714.html) [What would be the possible repercussions of lamb theft](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-76804.html)

-

“You mean she doesn’t  _normally_  go around stealing animals?” Edric asks.

“It’s not an active thing,” Bull says, staring at his phone. Edric has no idea what kind of thought processes a person must have if they’re Ellana Lavellan’s chosen significant other. Emphasis on other, because no normal, mundane, logical,  _sane_  person bound by the laws of the universe, science, and common sense would ever have been able to catch Ellana Lavellan’s eye and keep it. “Usually the animals just  _happen_  in her vicinity.”

Happen. As though Ellana Lavellan’s existence, like a  _god_ , causes life to suddenly spring up and occur. Like a series of infinite Big Bangs creating multiple chains of new life and beginnings.

Ellana Lavellan hovers, on any day, between Lovecraftian horror and approaching idolatry-slash-apeothesis-God-hood in the minds of mortals like Edric. This is coming from someone who doesn’t believe in any form of gods, otherwise he wouldn’t have ever been stuck with this tragedy of a life without form of redemption, salvation, or possible conclusion.

Ellana Lavellan existing on this type of scale should seem baffling, mind blowing, or even mind stopping. But when you put her into context with the rest of the Inquisition  _she_  becomes normal and that’s —

That’s terrible.

That’s awful. Why is Ellana Lavellan a five on the weird scale when she’s considered in context with the Inquisition instead of just in general? Why is Ellana Lavellan, ace pilot, strange and eccentric being that creates random spawn points for animals, has an extremely specific and esoteric knowledge base, and is capable of inflicting insane amounts of mental and physical harm with the least amount of effort possible  _average_  in Edric’s current surroundings?

Who’s ranked higher on that scale that Edric mentally puts her right in the middle?  _Why is there someone who supersedes Ellana Lavellan in terms of the fantastical_?

Edric feels his mind approaching some sort of realization and quickly shuts that down before it get can any further. He doesn’t need any new levels of self-awareness.

He’s already too aware of the life he’s leading to the point where it’s like he can see the falls just as they’re about to happen, knowing he’s completely powerless to stop them. It’s absolutely horrific. It’s like watching a horror movie and wanting to yell at the screen because the protagonist is an idiot, but  _he’s the protagonist_  and the movie is what he sees with his own eyes.

His brain is yelling at him, watching his body act, and somehow is powerless to stop it.

“I’m saying it's passive,” Bull says, frown starting to pull at his face as he starts texting something back to Ellana. “No input from her needed at all.”

“Ellana Lavellan? Passive? Say it to her face, see how passive she is about that one.”

“Where would she steal a lamb?” Bull asks. “There aren’t any farms close to base. Not any with livestock. Lambs, specifically. She’d have to go all the way down the mountains — the wrong side of the mountain actually. There aren’t any livestock farms on the west side of the Frostbacks close to Skyhold. Wait, I think there’s one with goats. But they’re mountain goats. Do you think her brain classifies those as different from lambs? You don’t think she’s going to eat it, do you? I don’t think the goats are raised for consumption, I”m pretty sure they’re used for environmental controls or something. Shit. Should I ask Adaar to check on her? Do you think Adaar would check on her?”

“You know, she’s probably  _with_  Adaar right now. Herah Adaar, not Kaaras. Kaaras’ been locked in the labs for two weeks. I haven’t seen or heard from him except in hushed whispers. Malika said he snapped and entered mad scientist mode. It’s not pretty.”

“Damn. You’re right about Herah. No idea about Kaaras, I haven’t been around the labs to get the gossip on that.” Bull runs a hand down his face. “Herah would  _help steal the damned thing._  Just so she could say she was there when it happened. Fuck. How mad do you think the Boss would be if I left the stake out?”

“By Boss do you mean Evelyn or do you mean Leliana or do you mean Josephine?”

“Rutherford isn’t an option? Ouch.”

Edric just gives Bull a  _look_. They all know he’s not the boss. In some very, very specific situations, yes. When painting in general broad strokes over what the Inquisition does? No. Not even close. Only in name, really. Only in name.

“Okay. Fine. I dunno. All three, I guess? All three of them have some sort of horse in this race.”

“If you tell Evelyn it’s because you thought Ellana was about to commit livestock theft then she might let you off the hook. She has to manage Ellana’s…Ellana almost as much as you do. That excuse will absolutely not fly not with Leliana. It could go either way with Josephine, depending on how you swing it.”

“Fuck.” Bull sighs. “Do we know anyone responsible and physically present who could stop this?”

“Maxwell.”

“I said someone who could stop it. Not someone who would be stopped.”

“Through Maxwell  _Cassandra_.” Edric shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have to explain that.”

“I like the way you think,” Bull says, texting away. “Is Maxwell around though?”

“He should be. He was there when we left. I don’t remember him talking about any assignments,” Edric replies. And then frowns. “I wonder why he isn’t on any assignments. Why am I always on assignment? I’ve already got my details for the one after this one. I’m one of the oldest members why am I being shuttled around like a workhorse? I’m only here to be Malika’s guardian!”

“Before you get into that old timer,” Bull says dryly, “You check the readouts? Anything on yours? Because I’ve got nothing on mine and I’m beginning to think we’ve been tricked. I’m going to go in. If I have to stay out here and stare at nothing happening on a screen while possible animal theft is going on on another screen I’d rather watch the nothing happen in person. At least I can be an active participant in that.”


	27. Chapter 27

[(775):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-775.html) [I'm too depressed to drink my wine. That is what I would call a serious problem](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-76841.html)

“Well. Did he say what kind of wine it was?” Herah asks, handing Evelyn her phone back. “And should you really be letting other people see your private conversations with your friends?

“You’re missing the point, I think,” Evelyn frowns. “Dorian’s so depressed he can’t drink. He’s already on the side of alcoholism. I don’t want to think about where he could possibly go from here. I’m really concerned, Herah. He wasn’t even like this when his dad came to see him. Slash…abduct him. It’s not like Dorian to be so despondent. Normally he bounces back angry and loud and in your face and that’s wonderful. I really do mean it. I admire his ability to be so resilient in the face of other people’s vitriol. But in this situation he’s…not bouncing back and I don know how to help him.”

“Dorian isn’t going to spiral off into the deep end of drugs,” Herah shrugs. “I know we talk shit all the time, but Dorian’s got an impressive amount of self discipline where it counts. Consider the fact that he’s here, with us, rather than in his own country where he was born and raised. Dorian has some sense of knowing what’s good for him and what’s right and wrong.”

“Alright, but. I’m still worried about him, Herah. What’s wrong with Dorian? What happened?”

Herah raises an eyebrow. “In a general sense? Within the past twenty four hours? Spiritually? Physically? Emotionally? Is there an exact frame of reference for this extremely loaded question? Can you narrow this down? Because as much as I’d love to, I can’t be with you for the next week going through Dorian Pavus’ many, many,  _many_  issues one by one.”

Evelyn gives Herah her sternest look, the one she used to give students who only talked to make trouble and talk shit in her lectures. Herah succumbs. They usually do.

“Alright, fine. I don’t know. Dorian doesn’t come to  _me_  when he has problems. He goes to you. Sometimes Ellana if he’s sure she isn’t going to make him regret it. Honestly? Most people go to you. So I don’t know why you think I’d be able to help you on Dorian’s problems.”

“Why  _me_?” Evelyn asks, eyebrows raising in incredulity. “Herah, I am not someone you want to be asking for advice. I was framed for  _murder_ , I was a literal criminal with a bounty on my head. I almost had my degrees taken away from me. Did you know that my bank accounts were frozen? People were out for my head.”

“And now you’re running an international semi-legal and acknowledged military-intelligence organization that fights terrorism and acts of human rights violations,” Herah points out. “Something about you makes people think you have your shit together. Maybe it’s the haircut or the way you dress. Maybe it’s because you used to be a professor? Point is — if someone told me to go get an adult I’d go looking for you.”

“Herah, you  _are_  an adult.”

“Spoken like a true adult,” Herah taps her temple and points at Evelyn, “You even talk like one.”

Evelyn sighs.

“Anyway, you’re the one people go to when they have problems, not necessarily to fix them, but because you make people feel better like things are going to be alright. Did Dorian tell you anything about why wine isn’t helping him anymore?”

“No, that’s why I’m asking  _you_.”

“Why  _me_?”

“Because when someone says go get an adult I’d go looking for you!”

The two women stare at each other for a moment, held at a stalemate.

“Yikes, Evelyn.” Herah frowns. “I’m…really concerned about that. I’m considering revoking your adult status for the fact that you think I’m a responsible adult who can help you.”

“Please do revoke my adult status in your head. But. You’re dating  _Josephine Montilyet_.”

If there’s anyone who’s a reasonable adult, it seems reasonable that it would be Josephine Montilyet. She’s an ambassador. She’s literally in charge of keeping civil relationships between  _nations_.

“So?”

“I don’t think she’d date someone who wasn’t a responsible adult.”

“You thought wrong, because here I am. And here we are. A couple. And me still not a responsible adult that should be turned to for respectable, implemental, or legally sound advice. Oh, I can do plenty of things. But none of those things would make me sound, on paper or out loud, like an adult.”

“Well, it’s too late now. I’ve already asked you for help and you can’t turn around and ask me to help you to help me for help. Now what? Who’s the adult we turn to now?”

“Josephine, probably.”

“Probably?”

“Listen. I hate to be the one to break this to you.” Herah puts her hand on Evelyn’s shoulder. With her other hand she gestures around them. “This entire Inquisition thing? Running on the shoulders of the insane. You want to find one single logical, morally and ethically sound, reasonable person of  _adult_  status? Look in a mirror. I love Josephine with my entire  _existence_  but I cannot in good conscience say she is a completely functional adult because I’ve seen her before she fully wakes up in the morning and that image? That person she is before she’s  _Ambassador to the Inquisition_? Not an adult. Now, I won’t say what I’ve seen because I value my life and my relationship. But I can promise you that if you  _did_  see what I’ve seen you would not be able to definitively put her on a list of absolutely functional adults.”

“Don’t tell me that Herah. Don’t tell me things like that. You know how easily I turn to panic and near obsessive-compulsive desires to control things when I start to get nervous,” Evelyn deadpans. “Herah, do not bring this down on me when I’m just trying to figure out how to help Dorian. Don’t send me into this spiral and too late. Here we go. I can see myself falling into this spiral. I”ll see you guys on the other end. Bye.”


	28. Chapter 28

[(203):](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Texts-From-Areacode-203.html) [The text I got from my boyfriend this morning: "babe, I'm not mad because I know you were drunk, but you kissed 3 guys last night and I wasn't one of them".](http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-76861.html)

“Where was I when all of this kissing was happening? I would have appreciated a kiss from Ellana,” Maxwell says as Bull help him unload cargo from their latest shipment of medical supplies that’s being transported from Skyhold to the Morrin Port. “Also, how did she miss you in the room?”

“That’s what I'm saying,” Bull says. “I’m the biggest guy there. I’m a walking target for kissing. How did she kiss Kaaras, Pavus, and Rylen but not me?”

“Seriously, where was this and when was this? Why wasn’t I there? Are you guys excluding me from parties? Is this  _bullying_?”

“Grow up, Trevelyan,” Bull elbows him and nearly sends the man toppling over into a pallet of water bottles. “You were working on something with Sera and Dagna in their labs.”

“The three of us would have loved to come join the kissing Ellana party,” Maxwell says. “We didn’t get anything productive done. It wasn’t fun at all. Just a lot of yelling and hair pulling and cursing and hitting our heads against solid surfaces. So far all we know is that Dagna’s hydraulic brace is stronger than my body and it might rip someone’s arm off in live testing.”

“How did you figure that one out?”

“This is not the kind of shirt where I can appropriately show you my bruising without taking it off and giving the rest of the tarmac a show,” Maxwell replies gravely. “But rest assured that I am the answer to the question of what is black and blue all over.”

“I’d appreciate the show, you’ve got a nice body. Good all around toning,” Bull says. “And if you’re black and blue all over what the hell are you doing unloading cargo?”

“I’m not a baby,” Maxwell says. “Just because I feel tender and feel like I have about the same core strength as one doesn’t mean I am. I can pull my weight. Do stuff.”

“Look good in front of Pentaghast?” Bull asks, rolling his eye. “Don’t be a dumbass. You’re going to fuck yourself up.”

“Ah, but the secret to that is that I am always, in some measure, fucked up. So it’s more of a persisting life long thing that I’ve learned to cope with. I’m semi-allergic to latex. I get hives and open sores. It’s buried somewhere on my medical file but like. I don’t care. I’ll eat bananas.”

“Is that why you always look weird when you eat bananas?” Bull asks. “You’re the only one I know who eats them with a fork.”

“It helps avoid the outward physical evidence of an allergic reaction.” Maxwell nods to himself. “I'm a genius. This way all the damage is shown  _internally_  and it’s not like ya’ll are shoving an endoscopic tube down my throat everyday. I’m safe.”

“You’re the dumbest fuck on this base,” Bull surmises. “If only you could put that kind of ingenuity to work doing something else. Go do inventory instead.”

“Do you know how bad that would look? Me? An able bodied person just standing around counting boxes while everyone else does things? I’d look like such a douche!”

“If I lift your shirt up right now, would you rate your skin to be at a medium purple or a solid black?”

“Can I be romantic and say the encroaching black of a beautiful, uninterrupted dusk?”

“Hey. Rylen. Yeah, I’m talking to you. Trevelyan’s an idiot and trying to move shit when injured. Can someone restrain him before he does lasting damage?”

“You tattle.” Max gasps. “Bull, you’re a  _snitch_.”

Bull looks severely unimpressed as Rylen comes over to them, glaring at Maxwell.

“Trevelyan, I’m a spy. What the fuckd do you think spies  _do_?”

“Trevelyan,” Rylen says, “Put those fucking boxes down right now. Are you really going for a repeat of the salamander incident? There was a memo. No work on the tarmac or loading docks when injured. You were listed  _by name_. What kind of masochist are you?”

“The kind that has a crush on Cassandra Pentaghast,” Bull mutters under his breath.

“I’d kick you if I had the balance and core strength to stay upright,” Maxwell replies sullenly. Rylen takes the boxes out of Maxwell’s hand and glares at him. “Alright, I’m going. Gosh. It’s like you guys don’t appreciate me.”

“I appreciate you when you’re healthy and not more of a clumsy idiot than you are normally,” Rylen replies. “Go to the infirmary and get some pain medication for whatever it is this time. And then report to the Ambassador for reassignment. I’m sending up a requisition to put you on desk duty.”

Maxwell groans. “It’s like you guys want me to  _wither away and die_.”

“As long as it’s away from the tarmac and loading docks.”

“I don’t remember you ever being this mean before. You used to be so professional and nice. Just this really steady guy I could count on and use as my  _oh shit_ barometer for what my reactions should be. What happened to you, Rylen?”

Rylen gives Maxwell a flat look.

“Trevelyan. You made me this way.” Rylen glances at Bull. “Sorry about the kiss.”

“No hard feelings,” Bull says. “Honestly? I should be used to it. Let’s just be glad that she didn’t drop you when she dipped you. She was about seven drinks in at that point. She  _did_  drop Pavus.”

“What kind of kisses were these that I was missing out on?”

“Nose,” Rylen answers. “Well. For me. She grabbed me, spun me, dipped me, and kissed me on the nose. Then she said that I’m the backbone of the Inquisition, handed me off to Bull, and disappeared. I don’t know and I don’t want to know about what was going on in her head at the time.”

“Did she dip Kaaras?”

“Yup,” Bull says. “You’ll be surprised at her core strength. Ellana spends a lot of time working her core to make up for the fact that she spends a lot of time sitting in a pilot’s seat.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (608): It seems that I didn’t convey clearly enough how well and truly fucked we are, Jack. Listen to me very closely: we are DEAD.
> 
> (440): I'm doing my drinking workout. 20 pushups for each beer I finish. I should write a fucking book

 

“Who’s Jack?”

“That’s the thing you’re going to get stuck on?  _Who’s Jack_?” Sera says, “Jack’s my alias. I’ve been working this guy for months. He thinks I’m a dude from South Orlais named Jack and I work on cars and stuff.”

“How did you get him to believe that?” Kaaras asks, blinking, “Sera, your vehicle proficiency begins and ends with how to hot wire a car. Everything else you guess.”

“Trevelyan’s good at cars, he’s been feeding me lines. That’s not the fucking point here, Adaar. This guy is like, one of my best unknowing leads,” Sera says. “He’s about to run because something spooked him and if I lose this lead I’m going to lose half my case. I need to figure out how to calm him down.”

“Is he prone to spooking?”

“He couldn’t be more paranoid if you gave him some coke and a tin-foil hat,” Sera says. “This dumbass gets spooked by a stick thinking it’s a snake. He’s a horse with thumbs.”

“A horse with thumbs?” Kaaras repeats to himself softly as Sera continues to talk over him.

“But the point is normally I can talk him out of it, talk him down, maybe get him to take some weed and chill. I don’t think it’s going to work this time.”

“So. Um,” Kaaras hands Sera her phone back. “I’m sorry for that? I’m sorry?”

Sera blinks at him, confused. “Why are you sorry?”

“Uh. Because you’re going to lose your lead? And your case?” Kaaras worries his bottom lip and hesitantly pats her on the shoulder. “There’s always next time.”

Sera just stares at him.

“One, you’d be a terrible motivational speaker or life coach. Your life in your lab? Perfectly suited to you. Don’t decide on any career changes. It’s too late for you, you disaster. I say that with love. And second, I didn’t come to you to complain and shit. I came to ask your advice.”

“On what?”

“On how to get this horse of a person not to fucking spook. You are one of the most anxious people I know. The only reason you aren’t a horse of a person is because your reflex is to play dead or like…actually maybe die. Sometimes you do this thing where you just stop breathing. It’s crazy. Like. I don’t know what’s going on up there, but something in your wiring got crossed and decided that…nah. Nah. It ain’t worth it. Might as well die. It’s crazy.”

Kaaras takes a minute to process this.

“Thank you?” Kaaras frowns. “Wait. Am I worse than a horse person? Am I a defeatist?”

“Don’t get caught up in the weeds  _again_ , Adaar. Focus. How do I talk this guy out of bailing on me over, probably, nothing?”

“How would I know?”

“Because there’s one degree of separation between you two as nervous wrecks!”

“Shouldn’t you ask someone who’s good at talking down a nervous wreck?”

Kaaras jumps, chair skidding. Sera slams her fist on the table.

“Andraste’s fucking leather garters, Adaar, don’t sneak up like that.”

Herah laughs as she picks up Kaaras’ chair, clapping him on the shoulder as he sits down.

“Losing your touch, Sera,” Herah says, sitting pulling a chair out and sitting next to Kaaras. “I couldn’t help but overhear because you have a voice that carries and it’s a room that carries a lot of sound. Like I said. You shouldn’t ask the nervous wreck how to calm another nervous wreck down. Kaaras doesn’t even know he’s having a panic attack half the time and the other half he has no idea what’s wrong with him so he just defaults to  _might as well die_.”

“I don’t,” Kaaras protests. “Also…I’m not a wreck. Nervous or otherwise. I have several published papers in respectable journals and I’m a respected peer in my field of study.”

Herah rubs her hand over her brother’s back.

“You’re a wreck and I love you. Go back to your lab while I help Sera with this.”

-

“You’re a disaster class, Aclassi,” Rylen says. “That’s not a work out.”

“It works,” Aclassi says, grinning. “You in?”

“I’m not in. I’d rather not get sick on the gym floor. Or wherever it is you’re planning on doing this,” Rylen wrinkles his nose. “How many beers are you going to drink?”

“It’s like a warm up. Beer before wine, everything’s fine,” Krem says. “Guess what I pair with the wine.”

“No thanks,” Rylen shakes his head.

“Come on, Rylen. Loosen up. You came when I texted and everything,” Krem nudges Rylen with his elbow. “Aren’t you tired of being all stuff upper lip and being responsible and all that? Relax. Have a beer. Play some table tennis. Watch a game on the TV with us. Play darts. Do shots. Don’t play darts and drink shots at the same time. Uh. We had an incident and Flyssa hasn’t forgiven us since.”

“I’m here because I was told that you have the keys to the armored car from bay seven,” Rylen says, “The one with the audio surveillance equipment. You need to start checking those back in after you come back.”

“Right, sorry,” Krem pats his pockets, “They’re in my uniform. Why don’t you come join me in my work out and then I’ll give you the keys after. Seriously. You need a break. Even your boss takes a break.”

“The Commander’s on medical leave,” Rylen replies dryly, “Fluid in the lungs.”

“It’s an  _enforced_  break, but it’s a break,” Krem says. “Come on. Besides, Blackwall’s joining.”

Rylen’s eyebrows raise. “Really? That anti-social board of wood?”

“Well. There’s beer,” Krem points out. “And a competitive nature. What more can you ask for? The Chief would join but he’s got prior arrangements.”

“Oh?” It’s something of a relief to know that he won’t be making a fool of himself in front of the Iron Bull at least. That man could drink them all under.

“Yup. He’s got his tea party social with the Ambassador,” Krem says, waving a hand. “Don’t ask me what they do or how that got started. I dropped in on them once and I still can’t make any sense of it.”


End file.
